


The Ties That Bind

by Ofseaandsky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Slow Burn, it will take a while though - Freeform, tagging is not my strong suit, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-11-20 16:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 164,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11339550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofseaandsky/pseuds/Ofseaandsky
Summary: With more time to plan before the Death Wave hits, Clarke and Roan need to find a way to get the Coalition to work together and save more people to from the second Praimfaya. What will it take to get the 13 clans to work together and find a way to survive together as life on planet Earth rapidly approaches it's end?Sorry summaries really aren't my strong suit at all. Starts in 4.08 and goes off canon from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I’ve spent a couple of months now writing and polishing. It’s long, nearly 100K words at this point. I don’t have a number for how many chapters yet, because I’m still working out how I’m planning on splitting them up. It’s 90% done at this point which is why I’m comfortable starting to post it and I will finish it. It’s a slow burn because that’s the only way I see it ever really happening between these two. There will be smut later and apparently once they start, they don’t seem to want to stop, so there’s that. But I emphasize again, it’s a slow burn, there is quite a bit to get through before they get to that point. 
> 
> Things I have decided to ignore:  
> 1\. Science (insofar as Raven’s extra time buying solution wouldn’t work, but the show is pretty relaxed on how science works, so sorry)  
> 2\. Raven’s brain issue (it was a bit difficult to write in, but in theory it could be still happening in the background. It’s not really relevant to the story so if you want to think she’s had it and solved it as she did on the show, that’s fine too. I’ve just not included it in the story)  
> 3\. Translations of Azgedasleng/Trigedasleng (basically because I’m a bit lazy and I couldn’t get it to work naturally  
> 4\. A couple of other thing which I won’t mention because Spoilers!
> 
> It’s set in 4x08 and goes off canon from that point forward. It’s unbetad so any mistakes are mine and I’m sorry. I try and catch them all, but it’s not always easy. Enjoy!

Clarke stared at the empty spot where the destroyed radiation chamber had once sat. There was no trace of it apart from a few glittering shards of glass on the ground and scuff marks from where it had caught the floor as Roan and Miller had pushed it out of the room. An empty broken tomb of possibilities no one could stand to look at any longer. Especially Clarke.

 

She was still furious at her mother for her impulsive decision that had essentially destroyed their last hope. Abby was already packing up the last of her supplies, preparing to return to Polis, an urgent call from Kane prompting her into action. Clarke had no idea what had rattled her so much, but the discussion had been had behind closed doors and she had been too busy reconciling the events of the previous day to snoop.

 

Clarke couldn't shake the shiver of discomfort that raced through her bones like an electric shock. She rubbed her arms to ward of the chill trying to force life back into her extremities but the heavy weight of failure and the sharp, bitter taste in the back of her throat filled her veins with ice as she thought back to the grounder’s last painful jerks and spasms as he spewed black blood like an oil geyser. She wasn't sure what made the shard of self-hatred twist deep in her heart more: the death of the morally questionable man or her own half-failure in part due to her mother’s fear. She had never felt less like a leader than she did today. The weight of responsibility over so many lives was dragging her down to the ground, the gravity of it all pulling her down and making it hard to straighten her spine and continue standing tall.

 

Roan approached, dressed once more in leather and furs, sword strapped at his side. She watched him as he moved toward her with determination she envied, confident in himself and what they were doing. Or had tried to do. He had extended that faith to her and she felt shame burn deep at how little she deserved his earlier praise. He didn't swagger with false confidence; it was part of the set of his bones. He moved like he knew he could part the seas and expected everyone else to acknowledge it. He moved like a king.

 

“Ready?” he asked and she nodded physically trying to shake herself from her thoughts.

 

It was time to move forward and hope that they would find something in the next week. If not, there was nothing left. They would all die. She couldn't hold his gaze but felt him watching her closely as she cast her eyes about the room. She wanted so desperately to feel a measure of the hope she’d had when she plunged the needle in her arm. She knew that had been the right thing to do, but it had all been for nothing.

 

“I just want to say goodbye to Raven,” she said and he followed quietly behind her, standing a distance away. He was still a little awed at the technology the bunker housed but hid it well, especially to those who didn't know him well. Clarke had seen the brief flicker of pride on his face as she pulled the needle from her arm and thought she may read him better than many. Like recognized like after all.

 

“We’re heading back to Polis,” Clarke said, walking up behind her friend as she furiously scanned the data on the screens before her. She looked over at the world map; a series of bright red squares highlighting all the known locations of nuclear power stations and was overwhelmed by the visual representation of what was to come. Death didn't come quietly it seemed. It raged against them and had the audacity to brandish its colors as it rode toward them.

 

“Yeah, okay,” the dark-haired mechanic said, not looking up.

 

Clarke sighed. She didn’t want to leave on such bad terms. There had been no other choice but to test nightblood the way they did, but she knew it had brought back memories that Raven was none too happy to revisit. Too many people died at Mount Weather for the sake of the human race. Too many more would die soon and she was helpless to stop it and too angry to mourn what was to come.

 

Raven turned to Clarke abruptly; she looked equal parts disappointed and proud. It was an expression that would have looked odd on anyone else. She studied her friend for a long moment, before rolling her eyes and pulling her into a hug. Clarke gripped her tightly, relieved in the small show of forgiveness.

 

“I found a way to redirect the existing solar power grid structure to continue cooling the reactor cores on this continent,” she said gruffly pulling back from her gently.

 

“What does that mean?” Clarke asked and just like that the spark that had been extinguished was flickering again deep behind her sternum.

 

“Another two months before radiation levels get unlivable,” Raven said, a little excitement flowing into her words. “Depending on the jet stream and how quickly levels rise in Russia.”

 

“That’s amazing,” Clarke sagged with relief. She looked over to where Roan waited by the staircase and surprised him with a dazzling smile. He frowned at her, but the corner of his mouth turned up just a fraction.

 

“It won’t mean anything unless we can find a solution,” the mechanic snapped, glaring at her with a hard look. “One that doesn’t involve any more human experimentation.”

 

“We will do everything we can. We’ll find a way,” Clarke said with a nod and just like that the steel returned to her spine. She needed a minute to think. Two months. They would surely be able to find something in two months.

 

“I’ll let you know if I find anything else,” the anger had drained from Raven’s tone and Clarke shot her a small smile.

 

“Thank you,” the blonde said. “If anyone can, it’s you Rae.”

 

Raven nodded and turned back to the monitor before her, dismissing Clarke to continue searching through the data. Nightblood may still offer a solution if only they could tweak the formula. And Clarke had already given a bone marrow samples for them to work with when Luna once again refused. It may not be perfect, but there was a chance. There was a little spring in her step as she joined Roan at the foot of the stairs.

 

“Our resident genius bought us two more months,” she grinned up at the king, her mouth still stuck in a stupidly wide grin. His eyes shot over her shoulder to look at where Raven was pointedly ignoring them, the quirk of his lips expanding into what could passably be called a smile. There was a twinkle in his eye that wasn't there before and Clarke would have bet it was hope.

 

It was time to head back to Polis.

 

 

The little optimism Clarke had left Raven with had all but been destroyed as she watched the warrior king stare down Indra and her fellow tribal leaders. The groundwork was being laid for a war no one could afford to fight. She wondered at what cruel joke was being played on her and their fellow survivors. She wanted to scream and rip the world apart with her rage. She felt it vibrating fiercely in her hands and had to clench her fists to make them stop shaking.

 

“We talked,” Roan said, looking at her significantly before he turned and left the bunker. She couldn't stomach watching him leave.

 

Clarke felt bile make a home at the back of her throat once more. Her heart was shaking in her chest, fury at the unfairness of the fates conspiring against her making her want to explode and shower the world in her pitch and gore. This was not the end; she refused to let it be. She would rage against the coming darkness. She would not go gently into the night and let her people, grounders and Skaikru alike, slaughter each other when they could work together. Not this time.

 

“Indra,” Clarke turned to her sometime ally. “You cannot seriously want a war instead of the chance to survive!”

 

“It is the way it must be, Wanheda,” the other woman squared her shoulders and made to turn and walk away.

 

“Is there _anything_ that can be done? Apart from war?” Clarke didn’t like the defeated edge her tone had. “You know that at best this will kill as many of your people as it will theirs. Probably more.”

 

“It is our way,” she repeated, but there was a flicker of doubt on her face. Clarke hadn't even shared the extended timeline with anyone save Roan. Not even her mother knew. She would hold fast to that information until the very end.

 

“If there was someone that could unite the clans behind them?” Clarke pressed, casting a look at the warriors behind her.

 

“There is no longer a Commander to lead our people,” a bearded man said gruffly.

 

“I know,” she said urgently. “I’m begging you please, attend one more summit, with all the clans. If no agreement can be reached there, you can go to war.”

 

“I fail to see what that will accomplish,” Indra said eyes already burning with the promise of violence and war.

 

“Maybe nothing,” Clarke said, frustrated. “But if nothing else it will get more of your people in place to fight.”

 

“And more of theirs,” a woman interjected. The warriors looked firm in their resolve. Clarke thought quickly, they needed a leader not a child begging on their knees.

 

“You will need Skaikru to help you live in this bunker,” she changed tactics, it was time to pull out her Wanheda persona. “The tech is too complicated for you to learn. You will not survive without us, not in the time we have left.”

 

“You are willing to sacrifice your own people for Azgeda?” Indra asked appalled, but there was the slightest crack in her tone that spoke of uncertainty.

 

“I gave my word and I want everyone to see reason,” she said, her voice strong, shoulders thrown back, face cold and blank. “I am willing to do what it takes for everyone to survive. You will need Azgeda when that bunker door opens.”

 

“We will never need Azgeda,” a large man scoffed dangerously, spitting on the ground by his feet. But Indra watched her intrigued and the blonde pressed on.

 

“When that bunker door opens,” Clarke continued, staring down each of the Trikru warriors present, letting the righteous fire burning in her belly to shine through her eyes. “There will be nuclear winter. We may not see the sun clearly for years. The land will be cold and harsh, beyond anything you have seen. Beyond anything most of the clans have known to survive. Except Azgeda.”

 

“Why should we believe anything you say, Wanheda?” the same warrior from before took a challenging step forward.

 

“Because I want us _all_ to survive,” she said firmly. “It is what I have always wanted us to do. Build a future together. Help each other. Survive together. It is what my father died for. If it comes to it, it is what I will die for. I was willing to just hours ago.”

 

Clarke stood tall, facing them as she would a whole army of warriors. Indra looked at her for a long moment, and she knew she was being evaluated. Dark eyes roamed over her face and Clarke held her breath with her chin raised and blue eyes filled with determination.

 

“If King Roan will call the summit,” she said slowly, ignoring the rumble of disagreement behind her. “Trikru will attend.”

 

“That is all I ask,” Clarke said and left the bunker as quickly as she could manage. Now she just had to convince Roan to try one more time. As soon as she cleared the bunker doors she shook the tremors from her limbs and flexed her fingers. She was shaking but used the adrenaline of the half won fight to drive her up the stairs to the king’s chambers.

 

 

“Wanheda kom Skaikru,” a guard announced as she entered the king’s chambers. Clarke had been surprised she hadn’t met with any resistance when she asked to speak to Roan. Echo glared at her as she entered and Clarke thought she saw Roan’s shoulders drop with a sigh. She wasn't sure why that made her stomach clench in sympathy.

 

“What do you want, Clarke?” he said, pressing his hands down on the table. “I am preparing for war.”

 

He sounded more defeated than she had ever heard him as he stared down at a table filled with parchment and maps, hands heavy on the edge of the table. Clarke knew he wanted to work together but the look in his eyes as he faced the Trikru warriors and her own people when they reached the outskirts of Polis was one she would relieve for a long time. It had cut deeply into her though she did the best to warn him. She wouldn’t claim to feel as betrayed as he did, but she was certainly not running into the waiting arms of Skaikru any time soon.

 

“I have come to ask you to call the summit,” she said, eyeing Echo as the warrior scoffed. Her beautiful features were twisted in anger and her eyes were hot with rage and suppressed violence. It was obvious she didn't like or trust Clarke and was just looking for an excuse to unleash her violence.

 

“The king will not place himself in such a position,” she said venomously, a hand on her sword. Her body was coiled like a snake ready to strike. The only thing that kept Clarke’s well-deserved fear of her in check was the deep loyalty Echo had displayed time and time again. She wouldn't strike without the order and Clarke still trusted Roan.

 

“Echo,” Roan interjected after a moment. “Let her speak.”

 

Clarke maintained eye contact with Echo as she fell back. She wished she were having this discussion with Roan alone, but it appeared he was not about to offer her that trust. She supposed she couldn’t blame him all things considered, but the pang of hurt didn’t come as a surprise.

 

“I convinced Indra to bring Trikru to the summit,” Clarke explained, approaching him. “She promised she would come and hear us out.”

 

“Us?” the king straightened and turned toward her. His blue eyes were guarded and cold and glittered like ice.

 

“Yes, _us_ ,” she emphasized. “We are in this together. And you know it.”

 

“We tried talking,” he crossed his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking with the movement. He looked imposing and untouchable and Clarke swallowed against the knot of fear in her throat. She tried to focus on the faith that he had always seemed to extend her; she just had to find a way to encourage it.

 

“I need you to try one more time,” she said, reaching forward to lay a hand on his crossed arms. She saw Echo move closer and her eyes wearily flickered over to where she stood.

 

“I don’t have time for this,” he said. “And you are in no position to ask it of me.”

 

“I never betrayed you,” she said, feeling her heart race behind her sternum and allowed a little of her fear of him to slip into her expression. “I stood by you and honored our agreement. No one told me about the bunker. They lied to me because they knew I would never stand for it.”

 

“I believe you, it is why you are free now, but your people do not inspire my faith,” he trailed off, implication hanging heavily in the air, but didn’t back away.

 

She felt the heat of him under her hand and recalled the feel of his body pressed against her back, cold knife to her throat, as she trusted him to hold his hands steady. The last whispered ‘run’ before he pulled her behind him, attempting to grant her escape while knowingly sacrificing himself. She focused on the memory and leaned closer.

 

“They pursued a dream and found the only help available,” she emphasized. “And Jaha thinks he has more power than he does.”

 

“That does not reassure me, Clarke,” he countered, arms flexing and firm under her touch.

 

“I risked my life to save yours, because I have faith in you,” she said softly, trying for a little privacy for her confession. “I would have given it up in that radiation chamber, too to save us all. I trusted you then and I still trust you now. Please, give this one more chance.”

 

His eyes glittered down at her, his brows drawn in a harsh frown, making his features even sharper. She felt the puff of his breath against her face as he watched her silently, evaluating. The heat radiating off of him made her want to both press closer to stave off her fear-borne chills and step away knowing she was encroaching too close into his personal space. Too close to the fire in him that drew her in so strongly and called to a part of her she hardly knew. She waited silently heart thumping heavily in her chest.

 

“Please, Roan,” she pleaded softly, squeezing his forearm gently, and his eyes softened just a fraction. “I swear if this doesn’t work, I won’t stand in the way of your war. And when you win, I will convince Skaikru to help you survive in that bunker. But that is not the way I want to do this. And I don’t think you do either.”

 

The silence hung heavily in the room after her promise. She hadn’t meant to play to his pride, but she didn’t doubt Azgeda would easily defeat Trikru and take the bunker. They outnumbered Trikru nearly five to one from what she had seen but it wouldn’t make for an easy survival in the confines of the bunker. There needed to be trust between the survivors otherwise they may end up killing each other before a year was up.

 

“Call the summit,” he instructed, Echo visibly balked as if she had been physically struck, but nodded and left them alone in the room. “Either way this discussion ends tonight.”

 

“Thank you,” she said as her breath left her in a great rush of relief and removed her hand from him. He watched her take a step back with a look that seemed to cut straight through her. One she was growing familiar with from the stoic king.

 

“Your Chancellor may attend if you do,” Roan continued, moving back to the table. He turned to lean his back against it and faced her in a way that was probably meant to be casual, but there was nothing casual about the king of the Ice Nation.

 

“I will,” she agreed, unsure what to say now that she found herself alone with the dark haired man.

 

“How do you plan to convince them?” He asked, challenging her with a raised brow.

 

“I’ll tell them everything we know about praimfaya, the probable timeline, that we have hopes that nightblood will be a workable solution, the room we have in the bunker,” she said, wondering what he was really asking. She had nothing else to offer, and could only hope that the clans would be willing to work together. It was the only way to guarantee that the human race would have a hope of making it through what was coming.

 

“And when they want to declare war on each other for the bunker?” Roan prodded, and she realized he had already run through probable scenarios in his head.

 

“I hope they will understand that they need each other,” she answered defiantly, knowing she was being naïve. He was watching her still, his eyes flashing enigmatically at her impassioned responses.

 

“The clans will need more than your words, Clarke,” he admonished softly, but not gently. “We cannot abandon our ways for yours because you wish it.”

 

“I’m expecting everyone to see reason,” she argued. “Surely they will once we tell them what we can offer. Skaikru has the knowledge to survive in the bunker, but each clan has knowledge that will help us after.”

 

“And they will understand that they need Skaikru, but no other, and even then they could kill you all once they learn how to operate the technology. They will work together if you give them reason to trust in the Coalition. They cannot feel that they are sacrificing their own people to do what Skaikru or Azgeda or Trikru want. They need to feel they are a part of the plan, an essential part holding the whole together,” he continued, watching her.

 

“Working together is the only way humanity stands a chance. They are an essential part based on that alone. War will not solve anything at this point. We can offer an equal share of space in the bunker, we may even find more in the time we have left,” she said and thought back to the folded piece of paper tucked away in her belongings that burned her fingers every time they strayed over the already worn edges. She would not back down from this, it was too important. Surely, she could get through to at least one person.

 

“You never listen, Wanheda,” he exhaled in a rare show of irritation; the dismissive use of her title evidence of how far she was pushing his patience.

 

“I _am_ listening!” she said, frustrated, taking the last remaining steps so she stood right in front of him. “I have been doing nothing _but_ listen, we need to act! We can’t keep talking circles around each other. We have weeks left, maybe a couple of months if we’re lucky.”

 

“I agree,” he said, not phased by her sudden proximity. “And by allowing some concession to our ways the ambassadors will listen and choose those best suited for surviving what is coming. It would ensure humanity’s best chance at survival. And those who choose not to will be left to their fate.”

 

“What do you suggest?” she asked finally, and was rewarded with a small smile. This was the concession he had been waiting for.

 

“The clans will require blood,” he answered simply, sitting up a little straighter now that he knew he had her attention.

 

“More bloodshed?” Clarke asked, repulsed. “That is what we’re trying to avoid.”

 

“Blood oaths, Clarke,” he interrupted her before she could start venting her frustration. He held up the palm of his right hand where the wound from their initial oath was still pink and barely healed. Her own hand twinged in sympathy of their shared pain.

 

“Oaths?” she asked, frowning.

 

“And strategic marriage alliances,” he added and Clarke was hard pressed to define the look in his eyes. It seemed she had been too early to deem herself at all competent at reading him.

 

“Marriages?” She didn’t know what marriages would do to keep the peace but if a few marriages between the clans would ensure survival it seemed a small price to pay.

 

“Between kru people of similar standing that connect the clans who agree to the alliance,” he added, watching her mind work through the problem. “It would require a week of celebration, which I know you will object to, but it is the only way I see the clans coming to an accord.”

 

Clarke desperately wanted to object and had to forcibly bite down on her tongue to stop herself. Roan was watching her closely, an air of nonchalance that was a little too unaffected. She may not know every look he leveled on her, but after spending time with the reluctant monarch she felt she had started to understand when there was more behind his words. He had already weighted the merits of the other strategies and found this one to be the one most likely to work that much was becoming obvious. He had been silent most of the trip back to Polis, and Clarke had assumed that had been mainly due to her mother’s presence in the back of the rover, but maybe he had been running through probabilities.

 

“And this would unite the clans? Enough to buy us the time we need to prepare? Find a way to share that bunker?” she asked, looking up at him.

 

“Yes,” he replied.

 

“So we arrange a few marriages to intermix the clans, have a big party and that’s that?” she couldn’t help the disbelief that slipped into her tone as she folded her arms across her chest. Roan straightened to tower over her. She raised her chin to maintain eye contact.

 

“If you are trying to insult me it won’t work, Wanheda. Especially so soon after you’ve admitted you trust me. I don’t take such declarations lightly. Marriage is uncommon for many clans and basically unheard of between kru, this would bind them to each other by blood. Blood bonds are sacred and held above all else,” he explained, his voice a low rumble and face blank.

 

“And how do we decide who enters into these arranged marriages?” she asked, turning the problem over in her mind. She already knew it would be unpopular with Skaikru but desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

“Anyone entering these alliances must be willing. Your clan becomes their clan. Their clan becomes yours. It is no small burden to bear,” he looked over her shoulder briefly before returning his gaze to hers.

 

“So we bring this proposal to the summit and see who is willing,” she nodded, conceding to take a step back. “Those who are will be offered nightblood, if we get that solution to work, and any resources we manage to find, including the bunker, evenly distributed between the different krus.”

 

“That is acceptable,” he stated, placing the bone coronet on his dark hair, resuming the persona of King of Azgeda once more. A mask fell over his features as his eyes shuttered and sharpened. It made him look so much colder and she shivered under his scrutiny. A sharp knock on the door signaled the Summit was assembled.

 

“Who will you need from Skaikru? And how many?” she asked as she turned to leave. “We do not have an established monarchy or a warrior hierarchy.”

 

“I would think that at least one would be obvious, Wanheda,” he replied, his cold mask slipping into a smirk as he donned his cloak in preparation for the meeting with the gathered leaders and ambassadors.

 

Clarke slowly froze in shock, realizing the implication of the words immediately. She would be top of the list for her people, another in a long line of sacrifices she continued to make since that overheard conversation between her parents. It felt like time slowed and stilled, the world around her sharpening as the air was sucked out of her lungs. She wasn't one to let others fly into battle on her behalf, but a part of her, a deep secret part of her, shuddered at the thought of politically motivated marriage especially since odds were she would never have met her groom to be before. The thought made her stomach twist and she focused on the scuffed toes of her boots.

 

“And who holds similar standing to the Commander of Death?” she spat the question, not daring to meet his eyes in fear of seeing humour, or worse, pity in them.

 

“I would suggest perhaps only a king,” Roan replied, an edge to his tone she couldn’t understand. When her head shot up in surprise to look at him, all she saw was his back as he left his chamber for the ambassador’s summit in the throne room. She felt like she knew less than she had going in but knew that something monumental had shifted. She only hoped it was in the right direction.

 

“Oh, shit,” she whispered, doing her best to school her features into the indifferent mask of the Wanheda when it felt like the floor had disappeared from under her feet. She trusted Roan, didn’t she? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who commented, left kudos and subscribed to this story! You've really made me smile. I've had a bit of extra time this weekend so I managed to go through the next chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!

The proposal had been met with reluctant agreement from the assembled twelve clans. Luna had refused to take part and had left Polis to seek the end to her own story. Her people were gone and she wanted to spend her last weeks honoring them. But the invitation to her would remain open until the end. Clarke could understand her grief, though she wouldn't excuse her reluctance to step in when they had needed her. Luna was a pacifist that much was true. But sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the sake of others. Clarke was well versed in this and would be soon again.

 

There would be time allotted for conferring with clan elders and choosing eligible members for the ceremonies. Each clan would need four representatives to enter into marriage bonds, distributed over the krus to ensure that each clan was connected through blood bonds no more than once removed. The clans would be interwoven like a tapestry, interlinked, dependent on each other by something as simple as an oath. Clarke pictured bloody fingertips twisting lengths of twine, weaving them together into a long rope that bound them all together in an everlasting circle.

 

An additional tenant had been suggested: that a council of elders and story-keepers would meet and explore possible options for survival in their mythology and common history. Once Jaha’s find had been explained to the summit a member of the Delfikru suggested their knowledge might assist. The other ambassadors had been agreeable to the idea with relative ease.

 

Now silence had fallen over the assembly, the gathered people eyeing each other warily, tension palpable and heavy. Clarke flicked her eyes around discreetly trying to gauge what the others were waiting for, but masks were firmly in place. Her eyes paused when they reached Indra, who was straightening her spine, shifting under the weight of the words she was about to say. Clarke was riveted on her and when she spoke, so were the rest.

 

“And will Azgeda take on a queen for this alliance?” Indra asked a hostile edge to her tone. Clarke held her breath, knowing that the success of this alliance rested in large part in Indra and Trikru’s hands.

 

The assembled ambassadors turned their attention to the king who stared back at them with hard eyes for a long silent moment. Clarke felt her nails dig into her palms as she scanned the crowd once again, before moving back to Roan, already suspecting what his answer would be.

 

“Azgedakru will kneel to a new azplana. I offer myself as one of Azgeda’s chosen,” he replied, eyes shifting briefly to meet Clarke’s. Her gaze never wavered from his, and she let hers burn back at him. The exchange was not missed the Skaikru chancellor seated next to the young woman.

 

“Then we have an accord,” a bearded man from Ouskejonkru stood after a moment and spoke into the heavy silence. “I pledge Ouskejonkru to join this allegiance and offer our learned elder Yeardly for the storyteller conclave.”

 

He crossed to where Roan presided from the throne and ran a blade over his palm before allowing some to spill on the ground before the king’s feet. He crossed his right hand over his chest and finished with a short bow before resuming his seat once more.

 

“Boudalankru also accepts the terms of the accord,” an older woman with severe features stood and offered her own blood oath to the king. “We nominate our learned one, Suani.”

 

Each clan present took turns to spill blood before the Azgeda king, each pledging a learned member to join in the effort to find a solution to praimfaya. Clarke felt the tight knot of tension in her chest lessen and be replaced by a small spark of hope. Her nerves still felt dangerously frayed, it wasn't over yet and she couldn't help but feel the prickles of foreboding down as they raced down her spine. She looked over at Indra who had yet to join the alliance, though she watched with steady eyes.

 

Kane cleared his throat quietly and Clarke looked to where he sat, hands still bound in his lap. She met his eyes with a small frown and saw an unvoiced question in his. He hadn’t missed the look she exchanged with Roan and was wary of the implication of his proclamation. The entire proposal would likely shock Skaikru who thought themselves above such barbaric ideas. She met his dark eyes steadily and with more confidence than she felt.

 

Clarke gave him an almost imperceptible nod after a brief moment of hesitation. Agreeing to this alliance would impact her more than she had anticipated but she would sacrifice anything for a chance at survival. For her people. For all people. Kane’s eyes hardened but he stood to face the king.

 

“Skaikru accepts the terms of the accord,” he said in a strong voice as he approached the dais. He took his place before Roan and after a nod from the king Echo stepped forward. Kane held the palm of his hand toward her and she cut a deep gash in his hand, leaving his hands bound.

 

Kane didn’t flinch as he spilled blood before the king as the others had done before him. There was palpable tension in the air as he offered a short bow before resuming his seat. There was only one clan left.

 

“Indra kom Trikru, what say you?” Roan asked into the silence. Indra stood and met Clarke’s eyes, searching them briefly. Clarke met her inquisition with a hopeful look. Trikru was the final and most important part of the puzzle after the day’s events. There would be a lot of bad blood and turbulent feuding that would have to be set aside for things to work between the two clans.

 

“Trikru accepts the terms of the accord,” Indra started as she turned a hard look on Roan. “If the next azplana is Wanheda.”

 

Clarke drew a sharp breath, surprised at her bravado and at the demand. It felt like a weight had physically dropped onto her chest, making it difficult to fill her lungs. She heard the movement as several ambassadors turned to look at her so she kept her calm blue eyes firmly on Indra. When she flicked them over to look at Roan, he was watching her intently, and under different circumstances she would think he looked relieved.

 

“Would you not make claims for azplana from Trikru rather than Skaikru?” Roan asked, turning back to the leader of the tree people.

 

“You would never accept one of our warriors and they would not be willing,” Indra explained confidently. “Skaikru has shown initiative to save all the clans. I believe that Wanheda holds the lives of many above the lives of the few.”

 

“And this alliance will not?” Roan challenged, sitting forward on his dais, spreading his hands to include the assembled clans. The lines of his body spoke of slowly simmering violence and the air crackled with a new level of anticipation.

 

“It will if Azgeda is tempered and joined by the power of Wanheda and the knowledge of Skaikru,” Indra moved her hand to the hilt of her sword.

 

“And you believe she will bend the ear of the king?” he asked, a dangerous undertone reverberating in his voice. The assembly watched the exchange wearily, moving their eyes between Clarke, Indra and Roan. Clarke herself felt a little ill at ease, not used to being on this side of Roan’s aggressive posturing.

 

“I believe we need the knowledge Skaikru possesses to survive what is coming. We have no Commander to unite behind. We need knowledge _and_ strength to rebuild. I believe binding Azgeda to Skaikru is the only way to ensure it. It is what we require to follow the Coalition. If not, we will go to war.”

 

There was silence in wake of Indra’s proclamation and she remained standing, holding Roan’s gaze. The air was heavy with tension and Clarke’s muscles coiled in anticipation of violence. Though Roan himself had hinted about their match only moments before entering this meeting, it still came as a shock that Indra would suggest the union.

 

Clarke felt Kane’s hand grip her arm and she met his worried eyes. She shook her head at him and returned her eyes to the centre of the room. She would see this through. Her hands were shaking slightly in anticipation, but she was still unsure of what she was anticipating.

 

“What say you, Wanheda,” Roan’s pale eyes crashed into hers intently, his tone dripping with challenge. “Will you tame the king of Azgeda?”

 

From his bearing to his word choice the sentence and the question was tailored specifically to rile her up. It was unnerving to have someone know her that well from so few hours in shared company. His left hand was idly stroking the hilt of his knife but his blue eyes were clear and free of hostility. He was a study of opposites but Clarke thought that maybe she was one of the few who was looking for the friend and not the king as she looked at him in that moment. If she focused on her friend she would find the strength to move forward.

 

Clarke swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly dry. She drew in a deep breath, and it rattled behind her ribs like dry leaves in the wind, and felt herself centre in on what mattered most. She had been turning the possibility of her marriage over in her mind as she listened with half an ear throughout the proceedings. Marriages were blood bonds, as sacred as those borne of the same family blood. She had willingly entered into one before when she crossed fifty of her friends and herself off the list of available spots in the remains of the Ark.

 

Blood must have blood.

 

She took a step forward, forcing her limbs into action. Roan was watching her the way she had seen predators watch their prey, and the thought made her straighten her spine and throw back her shoulders. Time seemed to slow as she approached the dais and as a sudden calm came over her. She knew what she had to do. She glanced over at Indra and focused her memories of the words spoken in the bunker.

 

She stopped before the king, every eye in the room fixed on her as she held her hand out toward him. He grasped the knife that was sheathed at his hip and passed the blade to her by the hilt. A knife she had come to associate with him and the times she had relied on him, the hilt still warm from his body. She took the curved steel blade, reminiscent of the crescents on his temples, from him with a nod and quickly drew a deep cut above the barely healed scar. Her blood welled up, black as pitch and she cupped her hand to catch it.

 

“I pledge as Wanheda of Skaikru to uphold the agreements made today. I commit my life to the protection of the Coalition and its people and offer the knowledge and resources available to Skaikru to stand against the coming praimfaya,” she said as she held Roan’s gaze, extending her arm out to allow her blood to drip down at his feet.

 

“If it is the wish of this summit and that of the heihefa of Azgeda I will do so as azplana and I swear uphold the tenants of this pledge with my blood,” she finished, and as a concession to the ruling clan, she slowly kneeled before Roan, head bowed but maintaining eye contact. She saw the briefest flicker of warmth crack his cold, regal mask. Clarke remained kneeling, holding her breath and hoping that she had done the right thing.

 

Roan stood and reached a hand out for the blade he had relinquished to her. His eyes stayed on her as he sliced a deep cut in his palm. She saw the blade slide across his palm from below and counted the breaths she took as the tightness in her throat eased and let oxygen rush in once more.

 

“I will bind Azgeda to Skaikru through marriage. Wanheda will assume the role of azplana for Azgeda and haiheda for the Coalition,” he said and reached out a hand to help her stand. Clarke felt the warm wetness of blood as she gripped his tightly.

 

“Oso tai choda op kom jus,” he said, holding her gaze after pulling her up to her feet, echoing words from a few days prior. _We bind ourselves in blood_.

 

“Oso tai choda op kom jus,” Clarke echoed as she tightened her hand around his. Their palms became slick against each other as their blood mixed together once more.

 

Clarke straightened her spine against the wave of weakness that spread with relief, and she felt Roan’s fingers flex around her own. A new oath had been sworn, and their lives were now tied together. She was both terrified and thrilled that she would face what was coming with the man she considered an ally and a friend. She was just uncertain about doing it as his wife. Or as a queen.

 

“Trikru accepts the terms of the agreement,” Indra said, stepping forward and stopping before the couple. “We will send our elder Kion to assist.”

 

Indra unsheathed her sword and used it to slice a wide cut in the palm of her hand, allowing her blood to drip before the still joined hands of the king of Azgeda and his soon to be queen. She inclined her head first to Roan and then to Clarke, before she stepped back once again.

 

“The tenants of the new accord of the Coalition have been drawn,” Roan said as he let go of Clarke’s hand and stepping forward to address the ambassadors. “Your wise ones and elders will report to Polis within two days and we will reassemble to seal the bonds in seven days time.”

 

With his final proclamation, Roan turned his head enough to for her to catch a glimpse of his face, and knew she was being asked to follow. She wanted to roll her eyes at already being pushed around, but followed a step behind him, seeking Kane out in the group of now whispering ambassadors. He looked at her gravely but bowed his head slightly as she passed him.

 

 

 

Clarke listened as her steps echoed around her in the hallway as they walked toward Roan’s personal quarters. Her mind was spinning and thoughts running wild. She was trying to plot out the next step. How to face the coming challenge. What to say to her people when she told them they needed volunteers for arranged marriages. How to allocate twelve hundred bunker spots to people of twelve different clans and leave the rest to burn outside the doors.

 

These thoughts clashed violently with the ones screaming at her that she had just agreed to be married. Married at eighteen. To a king. She watched the sway of his shoulders as he walked with purpose a step ahead of her. There didn't seem to be any niggle of doubt in how he placed his feet, but maybe the floor wasn't swaying under his feet like it was under hers. He seemed eerily calm while she was fighting the panic coursing through her heart. She was never meant to be a queen.

 

She had never given marriage much thought. When she was young and naïve on the Ark she had known that one day she would marry and have the child required of her to continue genetic diversity. Once her feelings for both men and women became echoes of the same attraction, she thought she was assured a love-filled marriage with twice the amount of people to potentially choose from. There were same-sex couples in space. As long as each woman and each man contributed to a child, one they had to apply to have and undergo strict genetic testing to ensure viability and optimal diversity, they were free to cohabitate with and marry whomever they wanted.

 

As she grew up her parents had seemed happy. There were the normal arguments every family experience, but Clarke never thought much of it. Wells’ parents were similar and they also seemed to love each other. The partnership marriage seemed to offer helped with responsibilities and offered someone that always stood by you. Even if she never found love, she knew that she could have been happy in a partnership with Wells, though they had both agreed it was a last resort. It was logical, and she liked logical.

 

Once they floated her father however, any desire Clarke may have had toward a marriage died along with him. The betrayal in her father’s eyes as he looked at Abby when they dragged him away broke something deep within Clarke. She vowed that she would never open herself up to that kind of disappointment and heartbreak. She had woken from many nightmares in solitary confinement dreaming of her father’s eyes and had assumed the only good thing to come from the dying spaceship was that she would never get a chance to feel the sting of such a tear in her soul. During her time on the ground she had not given marriage a single thought.

 

But now that was no longer a choice. And though there was nothing in the arrangement that spoke of love, commitment or even trust, she still held on to a sliver of the dream she had before her world fell apart. She still wanted to have a marriage based on partnership, affection, and maybe even love. It seemed she would have to settle on trust and hopefully friendship. At least they had a common goal. She did trust him and these days that was a hard thing to earn from her. It was at least something to build a fledgling friendship on.

 

She looked up once more at Roan’s back as he paused before the doors to his rooms, and tried to tamp down on the nervous fluttering in her stomach. Things had changed very quickly, it had been a day of the highest hits and the lowest lows and now she stood on shaky ground she didn't have a clue of how to navigate. For the first time since her fall from the stars she wished she were back in her room on the Ark, her father beside her, reading fairytales about princesses, knights, and dragons. Instead she stood before the fire with a reluctant king taking up arms beside her.

 

Roan’s personal guard held open the doors and she followed him inside. The sound of the metal closing behind them echoed hollowly and startled Clarke back to reality. She stopped, waiting for Roan to turn around and face her.

 

“You did well, Clarke,” he said, not sparing her a glance as he loosened the metal clasps at his throat and shrugged out of his fur-lined cloak and leather jacket. “You will make a fine queen.”

 

“Did you know Indra was going to ask for you to nominate yourself?” Clarke heard the pitch of her voice rise, indicating some of the panic brewing under the surface. She chose to ignore the compliments he gave her, unsure of what to make of them focusing on the frustration that grew at his continued composure.

 

“No,” he shook his head and poured a measure of liquid into two goblets that sat on a small side table. She watched and realized she needed something to calm her racing heart and shaking hands.

 

“But-“ she started, watching his movements as he still refused to meet her eyes.

 

“I didn’t know, but I assumed someone would. Indra and Trikru have the least reason to trust me and when she waited until the end to swear allegiance, I thought this may have been her intention,” he cut her off, handing one of the goblets to her and finally meeting her eyes. His were wary, and she wondered if maybe this wasn’t affecting him a little as well, despite his almost glacial calm.

 

“And you allowed her to force you to marry me?” Clarke gripped the goblet tightly, ignoring the strong desire to drink in lieu of asking her question. Roan didn’t answer immediately; just quirked an eyebrow raised his own goblet and drank deeply. She took a sip of her own, but the warm burn didn’t settle her as she hoped.

 

“It was inevitable I would need to offer myself and the position of queen for this to work,” he said softly, eyes dropping to his hands. “I hoped someone would suggest our union so that the Coalition would feel they had a hand in deciding who we would be wed to. As a part of Trikru’s terms of agreement, it becomes an easy way to bolster trust in the alliance as a whole. You are as much of a prize as I am, if not more.”

 

“You want to marry me?” she asked, dumbfounded. This was still too much, too fast and she was drowning, searching desperately for something to cling to as the sea threatened to swallow her into its dark endlessness.

 

“I want to mitigate risk,” he explained, his usual cold, calculating look in place. “If you and I were both allied to other clans it would complicate matters. Indra’s suggestion was a stroke of good fortune. I must admit I’m curious how you managed to convince her not only to attend the summit but to trust you enough to make our marriage part of her terms.”

 

“I appealed to her better nature,” Clarke said, a little insulted that she had been reduced to a political power piece. By someone she trusted. The quiver of nerves started in her hands once again.

 

“Indra doesn’t have a better nature,” Roan snorted, the sound and accompanying grin incongruent with the conversation.“She does everything she can for her own people. We all do. With one notable exception.”

 

“When we spoke before it sounded as if you implied Wanheda was the only one worthy of marrying the king,” she stated a little bitterly and took another sip of the strong alcohol. This time the burn warmed her belly and settled the raging emotions a fraction.

 

“I did. But I couldn’t be the one to suggest the match. Neither could my people. Or yours. Not if we wanted to assure the other clans that we are all in this together,” he rubbed at his forehead where his crown sat and with a weary sigh raised it off his head. “Take heart, Clarke. This went a long way in establishing trust even if you refuse to see it. I knew my faith in you to unite them wasn’t misplaced.”

 

“And if our match hadn’t been suggested?” she asked, not quite willing to let this go. He was giving her answers to more questions than she knew she was asking and it would take some time to review everything they discussed today.

 

“Then it would have made for a very complicated and underhanded negotiation process,” he said with a bitter twist of his lips. “That has never been my specialty.”

 

Seeing his weariness, Clarke paused. Roan continued to stare at the crown he had set on the table beside him, looking a little less confident than he had just a moment earlier. She sighed and pulled out the chair beside his at the table. She knew that he was doing all he could to help them survive. If she knew nothing else about the man beside her, it was that his wishes aligned with her own. Mostly.

 

“I guess I got what I wanted. Time to save them all,” she murmured quietly, flexing the palm of her injured hand. She could do this. It was time to allow herself a little faith.

 

An arranged marriage was not a lot to ask if it would guarantee peace for at least the preparations for praimfaya. If that was all this brought, then it was a success. She worried what the other Skaikru would say. And who else would be picked for a fate like hers. Her shoulders sank and she felt a bit of the adrenaline seep out of her muscles and it left her tired. Her vision blurred at the edges as she lost herself to her thoughts.

 

She started when a bowl of steaming water was set next to her and looked up to find Roan before her, reaching for her injured hand. He kneeled beside her as he dipped the cloth in the water and set about cleaning the still seeping wound on her hand. The wound she gave herself swearing herself to the people of the grounder clans. To oppose the man before her if need be. To keep him in line. To tame him and his people. She’d have more success in domesticating one of the great cats in the forest. The thought made her shiver.

 

“You did the right thing, Clarke,” he said softly as he concentrated on cleaning and soothing the skin of her hand. A hand that looked childish in the grasp of his larger and weathered ones. Hands made to protect a throne and had fought for life in a primitive land. Not soft and pale like hers, evidence of a pampered and simple life, despite the previous year. The contrast felt starker in light of recent events.

 

“I did what was right for my people. For our people, to save as many as we can,” she whispered with a shake of her head. She could clean and wrap own wound, but she couldn’t work up the energy to oppose his help.

 

“The Great Wanheda, keeping death at bay, and pledging her blood to protect the people of the ground and sky,” his tone carried a warm note of humor rather than the general mocking he often applied to the title. “Savior of us all.”

 

Clarke looked down at him at that, her breath stuttering to a halt in her chest when she saw the raw emotion in his sky blue eyes. He rarely let his guard down around her but right now she knew Roan had laid himself bare. It warmed her and helped slow the pervasive thoughts in the back of her mind screaming at her about how this was all a mistake.

 

“If anyone could, it would be you,” he added, and bent his head to his task, wrapping a length of cloth firmly around her palm. Maybe he did see her as more than a political power piece and ally. She hoped he saw her as a friend. It made the thought of marriage a little easier to bear.

 

“Let me look at yours,” she said as he tied off the bandage around her hand and moved to sit back in the chair at the head of the table. He huffed a bit, about to argue with her, but she glared at him until he relented, quicker than expected.

 

She pulled her chair closer and cradled his larger, calloused hand between her own, resting it on her lap. As with anytime she touched him, she was surprised at how warm he was, a marked contrast to her cool fingers. Dipping the cloth he had used to clean hers in the still steaming water and wringing it out, she set about cleaning up the edges of the wound. It was a precise cut and it ran parallel to the previous one he made, much like hers. It would close on its own in a couple of days so she wrapped his palm with the remaining clean cloth on the table, tying it firmly over his broad knuckles.

 

“Thank you, Clarke,” he said softly when she finished, and the corner of her mouth flicked up in a smile. There was more weight in his tone than was required but she suspected he wasn’t quite sure what else to say.

 

There was an insistent knocking at the door, shattering the calm that had fallen between them.

 

“Enter!” Roan called out, sitting straight in his chair once more and sipping at his goblet. Clarke followed suit as a member of his guard entered. He was very tall, with light brown hair that curled around his ears and eyes a starling shade of amber. Clarke normally wouldn't make such close observations of the guards but with the recent betrayal of his personal guard and the perilous position they now found themselves in, it would be wise to be cautious.

 

“Chancellor Kane kom Skaikru has requested to see you, sire,” he announced with a short bow, eyes firmly on the king. Roan nodded and the guard left briefly to fetch the Skaikru chancellor.

 

Kane’s hands were still bound as he was led into the room, flanked by two of Roan’s personal guard. He appeared grim and resigned as he was left standing in the middle of the room. He held the hand cut open for the blood oath in a tight fist as Clarke approached him. She didn't like the way the normally relaxed man twitched at the sound of the door shutting behind the retreating warriors to leave them in peace.

 

“Clarke,” he said, searching her face as she stood before him. “Are you alright?”

 

“Of course,” she answered with a short frown, gently unfolding his hand and looked at the angry gash on his palm. “If you sit down I’ll clean that out for you.”

 

Roan remained silent and seated, but was holding the hilt of his knife out to her when they turned toward the table. He had closed down completely, the spark of humor and warmth completely drained from his features and Clarke found she missed their reassurance.

 

“Thank you,” she said, holding his eyes and a glimmer of warmth thawed the shards of ice within them.

 

“I have some questions,” Kane’s eyes flicked over to Roan as Clarke cut his bonds and pushed him to sit in the seat she vacated.

 

Clarke chose to ignore the statement, and focused on her task. She looked around her, searching for the original source of hot water Roan had used. A hand tugging on her elbow brought her attention to the king who indicated a pitcher across the room. She left Kane sitting in the heavy silence while she rinsed the cloth and filled the bowl with fresh water.

 

“Clarke,” Kane prodded as she kneeled before him and she met his eyes warily. Before she could respond Roan spoke.

 

“What makes you feel entitled to ask any?” Roan’s voice rumbled behind her, anger and suspicion sharpening the sound. It was a warning growl, his hackles up and anger evident in the lines of his body.

 

“I did what I thought was best,” Kane returned, eyes flashing at the king. Clarke busied herself with soaking his wound but felt a knot of tension pull tight between her shoulders.

 

“And what about my people,” Roan countered, tone harder and colder than before. “You made an alliance with me before you made one with Trikru.”

 

“Gaia was the only one who could help us enter the bunker,” Kane explained and a little of his righteous indignation dissipated out of his tone. “I did what I could in the situation and I ensured that you would be included in the deal. Trikru wanted to slit your throat and hang your body in the square. I told them Clarke would never go back on her word and leave you behind.”

 

“But you left my people to die,” he growled, and Clarke pressed harder than necessary as she cleaned the blood from Kane’s hand. She knew Roan had a right to be angry, and truthfully she still was as well, but it was time to look forward. She knew Roan was willing to die for his people so sparing him in lieu of them earned Kane no gratitude.

 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she hissed, glaring at both men in turn. “We will share it now. With everyone.”

 

“If you think this arrangement will work,” Kane started, shaking his head. He looked tired, the lines around his mouth deep and dark.

 

“I don’t know if it will,” she said truthfully. “But it is the best option we have. If we can work together maybe we can find a way to save more.”

 

“But marriages?” Kane asked, flinching slightly as she bound a strip of cloth around his cleaned palm. “Blood oaths? This will keep the peace? For you to give your life for this?”

 

“I am not giving up my life,” she huffed, annoyed at his dramatics, and wrapped some cloth around his palm. “I am strengthening an alliance. I am keeping my word. If this is what is needed to ensure peace, then it is a small price to pay.”

 

“Peace, Clarke,” Kane insisted, taking her by the upper arms. “Not for you to be bartered like chattel.”

 

“I expected this conversation with my mother, not you,” Clarke sighed as she pulled from his grip and rose from where she still kneeled on the floor. She brushed carefully at her knees after placing the bowl and cloth on the table.

 

“I was not bartered. Roan and I discussed this possibility before the summit.” It was a gentle stretching of the truth and she wasn’t entirely sure he bought it. She kept her eyes firmly on Marcus, not wanting to see Roan’s reaction.

 

“This was all planned?” he asked tone heavy with disbelief. “It was a foolhardy one at best. What if the summit hadn’t agreed?”

 

“But they did,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s time to move forward.”

 

“So we just have to accept this?” Kane sighed, looking a little defeated. His dark eyes looked her over, and she thought she saw something in them that wasn’t there before.

 

“You’re lucky I don’t have all of you killed as punishment for treason,” Roan interjected, reminding her that he was still very much the most powerful person in the room. She looked over at him, and his eyes flickered up to hers. She wanted to roll her eyes at his display but decided it would be inappropriate, only just, opting to raise her eyebrows at him instead.

 

Kane looked at the king, scrubbing a hand through his beard and settling it over his mouth. He watched Clarke unseeingly while he worked through the situation. Clarke trusted him to reach the right conclusion. He had backed an alliance with the grounders from the beginning, a brand he still wore with pride, and he knew Skaikru had reneged on their word. He was the one person she never doubted would see the reason of their current alliance.

 

“Your mother is going to kill me,” he said finally, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“I will handle my mother,” Clarke said. “She will have to accept it. Everyone does.”

 

“So it appears,” Kane muttered. Roan looked at him sharply.

 

“If the alliances work as we anticipate they will, this will unite all our people,” Roan rose from his seat and stopped at Clarke’s side. “It is something not even the Commander managed to do.”

 

“That may be so,” Kane agreed, warily eyeing their united front. “But this peace will not come easily. There is bound to be opposition, even after the oaths today. Speaking on behalf of Clarke’s mother and her people, I am concerned for her safety in all this.”

 

“I swear on my life that I will keep Clarke safe,” the king insisted, appearing offended at the notion he would not. “No one will touch the azplana without facing retribution from all of Azgeda.”

 

“And you trust him to keep his word?” Kane asked, not caring about arousing further ill will.

 

“I do,” Clarke answered simply, looking at the man who stood beside her. And she found the words rang true even after everything they had been through. Roan’s eyes held hers in the silence that followed.

 

“Alright,” Kane said as he stood. “I will see to gathering volunteers for this alliance and explaining it to Arcadia. If we are free to return home?”

 

“I will order the release of Skaikru,” Roan acknowledged with a short nod.

 

“Thank you,” Kane said. “And for what it’s worth, I will ensure that everyone knows where we all stand now, and what we nearly risked losing.”

 

Kane offered his hand for the king to shake. Roan accepted it with a nod, apparently satisfied. His expression was still cold and distant, the mask he wore so well. It was something Clarke had yet to learn how to do.

 

“What do you need from me? In terms of the ceremony?” Clarke asked squaring her shoulders. If Roan wanted to marry the Wanheda, he would marry the Wanheda.

 

“Nothing for now,” he replied with a small smirk, seeing right through her bravado. “I will send an envoy to explain the rites and ceremony to you. But I would like you to stay in Polis. It is easier to ensure your protection if you’re here.”

 

“Alright,” Clarke agreed. He had spared her people and she wanted to be there for the first meeting of the learned elders.

 

“Until tomorrow, Wanheda,” he dismissed them and returned to his seat at the head of the large wooden table after instructing the guard to summon Echo. Clarke raised her eyebrows, but turned and left with Kane to face her mother and inform their people of what was about to happen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have a tumblr with the same username as here if you're interested. Not super active there, but they have an ask and messaging system if you have any burning questions or concerns.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again everyone for all your lovely comments! They really are more than I ever imagined. 
> 
> I love hearing what you guys think, so please do. I will try and reply to all the comments a little later as well, life is just a bit hectic this week, but at least there's an update! I have enough chapters under my belt to aim for twice weekly updates, at least for now, until I have a few less waiting for publication. So we'll see how we go.

 

“You will be the last to wed, and upon completion of the binding the feast will begin,” the memory of the Azgeda envoy’s voice filtered through her mind as Clarke leaned back in the fragrant water of the bath that had been brought to her. She was in the guest suite preparing for her wedding and spent the time going over the information she had to remember.

 

There had been two days of wedding ceremonies already completed and today would mark the third. Clarke’s own marriage would be the last one, to be held late that afternoon starting the first of three nights of feasting and entertainment. She had never seen quite so many people in Polis before, and certainly never before in her life. There were thousands here to celebrate the joining of the clans and many seemed incredibly happy that there was true unity in the Coalition at last. Roan’s plan was working better than anticipated. The people were happy against all odds.

 

The thought filled Clarke with bittersweet joy. She was thrilled that the grounders seemed to finally have been a chance to live harmoniously with each other, and that an Ice Nation king was the one to offer the solution was something many refused to believe. But it was all for little reward. They were still facing a nuclear apocalypse and most of the people assembled would die in a few weeks.

 

Not every one of the clans in the original Coalition chose to hold the blood oaths made the week before. Luna had left the city to parts unknown, refusing to be a part of anything associated with humanity again and Clarke hoped she would find her own peace before the end. Ingranrona kru and Sankru also sent word they would not honour the agreements and were officially banished from Polis and from a chance at survival with the rest.

 

Roan had been firm when he delivered the news to the remaining clans and not even Clarke wanted to oppose him. If they were unwilling to set the past aside to build a future, there were some sacrifices that would have to be made. Things would be tense in the bunker so they needed every last man, woman, and child to be willing and happy to work toward a better tomorrow.

 

Clarke sank lower in the hot water, tired from days of ceremonies, preparations and lessons. Every minute of the upcoming ceremony and the hand binding had been explained in minute detail. Elder John had run through proper pronunciation with her for hours in Azgedasleng. The lessons had the added benefit of increasing her overall vocabulary and she was thankful for it as she would be more actively involved in Summit meetings in the future and needed to be able to follow along. She had thought to ask if Elder John would be willing to offer some of Skaikru Azgedasleng and local dialect lessons once the festivities were over. But she supposed there were larger problems to sort through for the time being.

 

After the wedding there would be the swearing of fealty by the leaders of the assembled clans followed by her crowning at the feast. A feast that would drain resources and keep people occupied when they needed them the most.

 

Clarke sighed and the girl who was washing and brushing her hair in preparation for the intricate braiding apologized.

 

“No, no,” Clarke said quickly. “I got lost in my thoughts, that’s all.”

 

“Are you nervous?” the girl asked. She couldn’t be older than thirteen or fourteen and she seemed to find the entire experience thrilling. She had moved about the preparations for the bath like an excited bird looking for a place to roost. She had talked endlessly and asked questions about Clarke’s preferences and had even gotten familiar enough to ask her if she found the king attractive.

 

“Even if we only live to see this, I am happy to see such an event,” the girl continued when Clarke didn’t speak. “Not even my grandmother has seen a marriage between two kru royals.”

 

“Roan is king,” Clarke clarified with a frown. “I’m not royal.”

 

“Wanheda is a title that belongs to a queen,” the girl laughed as if it was the most obvious answer. “So it is the same. A princess of the Sky people who fell from the stars will wed the king of the Ice Nation. It is a story we will tell our children and our children’s children.”

 

“I am not a fairytale,” Clarke muttered and sank even lower in the bath, wishing she could submerge herself into the silence below the surface.

 

“I’m sorry, I do not understand,” the girl replied and Clarke sighed, unwilling to explain and closed her eyes, hoping to end the conversation. As the comb continued through her hair she knew she had gotten her wish.

 

In the deepest recesses of her mind she knew that if they managed to save enough people to hide away and repopulate this long suffering planet that their stories would be told as generations desperately sought to find purpose in their survival. The Commander of Death and her Ice King may become a tale of such epic daring that eventually it would become legend, as Becca had become to the grounders. She shuddered with the responsibility; suddenly glad she didn’t have to shoulder the burden alone.

 

Her mind drifted to what was expected of her marriage. Elder John had brought a thick book, a rare sight in Polis, where the intricacies and laws of the Azgeda marriage ceremony had been recorded. There was a section specifically dedicated to royal marriages, which were more intricate and symbolic than standard ones. He read from it, explaining that after the exchange of blood bonds, their hands would remain tied together through the feast to symbolize the symbiotic nature of rule on the throne and balance in marriage. It represented their new reliance on each other and that they would be united as one entity. Royal marriages were more common than those between the regular population but they seemed more restrictive.

 

Their hands would remain bound until they entered the wedding chamber at night at which point they would be left alone until the following evening meal. Clarke was a bit nervous about it, if she was honest with herself. Elder John had mentioned fidelity and an expectation that the marriage be consummated, but she had not yet found the courage to ask Roan what his expectations of tonight were. If he felt they were bound to fulfill all aspects of the wedding night, or if this was a marriage in name only. To be honest, she didn’t know which answer she hoped for.

 

She wasn’t blind. Roan was a handsome man. She had known that from the time he imprisoned her and carted her back to Lexa. Even under layers of dirty furs and grime his features were striking with feline eyes that seemed to see through any attempt at artifice and after she stabbed him she had been treated to seeing just how well a life on the run treated the male body. Her fingers still itched to explore the grooves of his abdominals and the raised lines of the intricate scars that spread out like demonic wings across his shoulders. She knew she couldn’t deny that there was attraction there.

 

Groaning at the turn of her thoughts had taken, she scrubbed her face with her fingers, digging in to banish the images that flickered behind her lids. A knock on the door to her chamber was a welcome distraction and the girl stood to fetch toweling cloths, holding them out to Clarke as she rose from the tub.

 

“Wanheda,” Echo greeted her with a small nod as Clarke came around the screen, a length of cloth wrapped around her. Roan’s second in command stood tall and proud and Clarke wondered how she felt about her king married off to a woman she had made very little effort to hide her disapproval of.

 

“Echo,” she returned. The warrior looked beautifully deadly dressed for her own marriage ceremony set to happen shortly before her own. She had been matched to Indra’s second in command in an effort to stabilize the relationship between Azgeda and Trikru.

 

“I am here prepare your hair,” she supplied shortly and Clarke couldn’t tell if it was revulsion or pride that colored her tone. Maybe a bit of both.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke said as she moved toward the chair set in the room for that purpose. Braiding was a very important part of Grounder culture and she had been told that a high-ranking Azgeda warrior would do hers so it would be done to the standard that would befit the new azplana.

 

Echo nodded and immediately set to work on her still damp hair. The braiding was done in silence and with precision and efficacy. Clarke didn’t even know where she could attempt to start a conversation with the tall, imposing woman. It wasn’t as if she could gossip about the day ahead. She sighed feeling particularly childish and out of sorts.

 

“You are preparing for a wedding, not a funeral pyre,” Echo’s sharp voice admonished with a deadly edge to her tone. She cared for Roan, Clarke was certain. She would protect him even in his absence, as was her role. It was something Clarke admired.

 

“I know,” Clarke agreed, with what she hoped was a light enough tone. “I was worrying about the reactions of the people to this alliance. Skaikru took some convincing before they cooperated.”

 

She hoped her explanation sounded sincere enough. Lying was not always her forte. But she found it important that Echo not believe that she was dreading her marriage to Roan, though a very small part of her was. She may not ever get to a point where she would trust the woman, but Clarke hoped they would have a cordial relationship. They would be spending a lot of time together in the future.

 

“I cannot imagine Skaikru understand our ways,” Echo replied a little derisively, but without her usual sharpness.

 

“Were Azgeda fully willing?” Clarke asked genuinely curious. Echo was silent for a long moment and Clarke had almost given up hope that she would answer.

 

“Many were opposed initially,” she conceded. “But we follow our king.”

 

“Not all of you,” Clarke prodded, reminding her of the most recent attempt at undermining Roan’s rule.

 

“Enough of us,” she pulled a little harder than necessary on the newest braid. “We had no shortage of volunteers.”

 

“Neither did we, but I’m not sure that means everyone is happy with the arrangement,” Clarke sighed again, already tired of a worn out argument, even with a new opponent.

 

“Survival outweighs personal happiness,” Echo countered in a way that sounded like she had said it many times before. “Happiness comes after. We do what we need to now to ensure our future. Then we worry about things like happiness.”

 

“I agree,” Clarke acknowledged and the uncharacteristic passion Echo had spoken the words with had reassured her more than any false platitudes.

 

“And you are exploring legends,” Echo commented as she tugged a slim braid into place. “Of where there may be more places to survive.”

 

“Radiation bunkers, yes. I just hope they find something,” Clarke agreed. So far they had pinpointed four new potential locations that were spoken of often in legends leaving them with hope of new places where people could potentially survive the radiation. The searches and the preparations appeared to be keeping people in line.

 

Echo continued her work in silence after that, focusing on arranging Clarke’s hair away from her face and into a coronet of braids, leaving lengths of her golden curls flowing down her back. The silence was easier though, less oppressive and judgmental. When she was finished, Clarke reached up curious fingers to find what felt like hundreds of tiny braids interwoven throughout. She couldn’t help anticipating seeing her own reflection.

 

“Thank you, Echo,” Clarke said sincerely, meeting the other woman’s gaze once it left her hair. Echo ran critical eyes over her head, walking around her to view it from all angles before meeting Clarke’s eyes once more.

 

“You look acceptable,” was the reply she got before she inclined her head to Clarke and left the chamber. Clarke was left shaking her head and stood to walk over to the table where some fruit and bread had been left for her midday meal. Before taking a seat at the table she shrugged into the robe left for her until it was time to dress.

 

She was eating in silence when Octavia and her mother entered a short time later.

 

“Wow,” Abby said as she appraised her daughter’s hair, visibly impressed at the work.

 

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Clarke said as she bit into an apple. “But it feels pretty regal. And Echo said I look acceptable, so there’s a shining endorsement if I ever heard one.”

 

Octavia snorted next to her, sitting down and stealing a piece of cheese from her plate.

 

“How did it go?” Clarke turned nervous eyes to her dark-haired friend who had been wed for the alliance this morning. She had been matched with Ilian of Trishana Kru. The match surprised Clarke seeing as he was the one who destroyed the remains of the Ark, but it seemed that the clans were trying to bury old feuds. Many other krus had been matched to ones where they had long-held feuds and resentment, hoping that the blood bonds would help people move forward from turbulent pasts.

 

“I’m a happy little Mrs,” she answered sarcastically, her tone a little more caustic than normal. But she shrugged and seemed a bit less affected than Clarke thought she would have. Octavia had never really gone into detail about why the young man saved her, but there seemed to be more to the story than she was wiling to tell.

 

Skaikru had initially taken the terms of the new alliance in varying levels of disgust and distaste. Many had outright refused to take part and Kane had worked hard in the week since the announcement to change public opinion of the grounders who had once again mostly been relegated to the category of ‘uneducated savages’ best to be avoided.

 

Clarke had not been present for most of the aftermath of the announcement, but she had heard enough snippets from her friends to feel a little of her hope diminish. Skaikru had no choice; in the end they had no access to the bunker without the Coalition. But there had been thirty volunteers in total and that had been enough to shock Skaikru into compliance when they only needed two more in addition to Clarke.

 

“Thank you, for doing this,” Clarke said sincerely, reaching for her hand. Octavia’s participation had not surprised Clarke in the least, though it had caused quite the rift with Bellamy.

 

“Whatever, at least I’m not going to be a queen,” she said with another casual shrug. Clarke made a face at her and Octavia’s beautiful brown eyes glittered as she smiled.

 

“Thank heavens for small favors,” Abby interjected a little bitterly.

 

“Mom, please,” Clarke whispered and shot her a look. She didn’t need any more tension. Her nerves were already frayed and screaming at her, her heart busy trying to dig its way out from behind her ribs when she stopped too long to think about what was about to happen.

 

“I just don’t see why you thought this was a good decision, Clarke,” Abby said, unable to hold back. After the initial conversation she had been mostly silent on the matter, only giving Clarke long, searching looks and huffing whenever Azgeda and the alliance were brought up. She assumed Kane had been taking the brunt of her displeasure at the situation. The first time she told Abby about what she had agreed to, her mother had stared at her silently before walking out of the room. Clarke had been thankful for the shock that still dulled her own emotions to that particular reaction.

 

“We’ve been over this,” Clarke tried, picking at an apple. “It is the best way to guarantee peace. And as you’ve seen over the last couple of days, it’s working. People are celebrating the marriages and are hopeful about the new Coalition.”

 

“There have been three challenges this afternoon between recently joined clans, Clarke,” Abby sighed.

 

“And their elders stepped in and stopped them,” Octavia pointed out, apparently throwing her support behind her friend.

 

“I still don’t like this. You haven’t been able to go anywhere alone. There have been two assassination attempts,” Abby continued, and Clarke could feel the bands of pressure around her head of a growing headache.

 

“Mom,” she sighed. “I am getting married. Can you please try and accept it? I’m not asking you to be happy about it. We have more important things to worry about.”

 

“How are there more important things to worry about? People are trying to kill you. Your soon-to-be husband has tried to kill you! How am I supposed to ‘just accept’ this?”

 

“That’s not entirely true, I tried to kill him,” Clarke said wryly and Octavia smiled. “And so did Kane. And Skaikru went behind his back to ally with Trikru for the bunker. He has more reason to be wary of this marriage than I do.”

 

“And you think this makes the foundation of a happy marriage?” Abby interjected, obviously not amused.

 

“No, but I know we are doing the right thing,” Clarke countered, her voice hard. “For our people. For peace. So we can hopefully survive. If that’s all we do because of this marriage, I will be happy. I’m not going to justify myself to you any more, Mom.”

 

Abby held her look but finally shook her head in acceptance and the three women sat in silence as Clarke finished eating, Octavia happily helping herself to half of what was left.

 

*~*~*

 

As the afternoon wore on, the arrival of two Azgeda women signaled it was time for Clarke to finish preparing. They arrived with a pile of clothes and bustled around her, assisting her in dressing. She wore a pair of soft leather leggings, a rich red chord wrapped around each leg in an intricate pattern. On top she wore a soft shirt covered by a leather vest that tied tightly much like a corset on each side. Over the layers of leather she wore a red dress made of an impossibly gauzy sheer material, it was open at the front and fixed around her middle by a thick leather belt.

 

Clarke stood as the women fixed the belt around her middle, a short sword hanging at her side. The women fixed what amounted to a mantle around her shoulders with an intricate silver clasp. It was made of soft, black fur and the collar and edges were lined with vibrant blood red and orange feathers that gradually darkened into the pitch-black feathers and fur around the bottom.

 

Clarke looked at herself in the mirror they had brought to the room especially for her. The face that stared back it her was hardly recognizable. Her eyes had been painted dramatically with dark charcoal and rich reds and gold, her blue eyes blazing out at her reflection. Her blonde curls were mainly loose around her shoulders and they spilled softly down her back. Her hair had been braided away from her face; small braids woven to form a coronet from her own hair. She straightened her back and the woman in the mirror looked every inch the reigning warrior queen. She looked like fire.

 

A phoenix rising from the ashes.

 

A fitting analogy for the new queen of Azgeda.

 

*~*~*

 

“Follow me, Wanheda,” Indra said after a long, appraising look at the young woman.

 

She had been tasked along with a contingent of Azgeda, Trikru and Skaikru warriors to escort Clarke to the wedding hall. The way was lined with more warriors than Clarke expected and she eyed them all warily. Indra noticed her discomfort.

 

“As soon as you are married, there will be peace. Precautions have been taken today to ensure it,” Indra explained, walking beside her, eyes scanning the area tirelessly.

 

Clarke doubted that she would be safe in the traditional sense of the word. But maybe she would be safer. There had been two attempts to assassinate her. The first as she was running an errand in the market stalls a man came bursting out brandishing a sword. Without the guard that had been accompanying her that day, she would have been dead, unprepared for such a bold attempt. After that day, she never went anywhere without at least two personal guards assigned by Roan himself. One of them was Tyko, the tall amber-eyed warrior she had noted the day of the Summit. Clarke had taken to him quite quickly, finding that though he was always alert and on guard, he had an easy way about him that reminded her more of her own friends rather than the often serious and always intimidating Azgeda warriors.

 

The second attempt had been much more subtle. She had been eating her midday meal with Kane and her mother before a meeting with the elders that hopefully would yield a potential survival location when one of the cooks came bursting in to the room. She scanned the table before them, eyes lighting on the bowl of stew they had yet to touch and rushed forward asking in panicked Trigedasleng if they had eaten any yet. The trio had been shocked and struggled to understand what the young woman was trying to tell them. It wasn’t until Tyko came in seeking the source of the commotion they understood that someone had managed to sneak into the kitchen and poison the food as it went up to her quarters.

 

Roan looked murderous when he came in a few minutes later, rage plain as day written across his sharp features. The poor cook was shaking in fear and Clarke found herself peacekeeper once more, assuring the young girl that had she not rushed up as quickly as she did, she would have been in trouble. She thanked her profusely and sent her home for the day to rest. Roan had been less than pleased, his anger a palpable charge in the air around them before he turned and left to hunt down the person responsible. She heard later that night that the responsible parties had been personally executed by the king which had caused a deep tremor to shake her body, still uncertain of how she felt about the entire ordeal.

 

She roused herself from her memories as she was ushered into the grand hall at the centre of Polis, one rarely used apart from major events. As she entered the eyes of the assembled people fell on her, her own personal guard flanking out behind her.

 

Roan stood at the other end of the hall on a raised platform that was surrounded by Azgeda warriors. He looked more regal in that moment than she had seen before. His hair was braided under his crown, eyes darkened with charcoal and dark grey clay, and he had been dressed in rich fabrics, leathers and furs, much like her. Where she wore red and orange feathers in her hair and on her cloak, the feathers on his were shades of black and charcoal. From the ashes they will rise. Clarke took a breath and forced her legs to move, chin held high and eyes hard with determination.

 

Roan’s eyes met hers, icy and intense, filled with the same determination and he inclined his head in a short nod before descending the steps to receive her. When she reached him she paused a moment, feeling a few nervous jitters make her hands tremble. He noticed the movement and his eyes warmed slightly making them darker and more personal.

 

“Ready, Wanheda?” he asked, too low for any of the people assembled around them and she nodded shortly at him. He offered his arm and she grasped his forearm as he led her up the few steps to where Elder John would be conducting the binding ceremony. They faced each other on the dais before the people assembled in the room.

 

“Clarke kom Skaikru, Wanheda of the Sky People, do you seek this union with good intention and freedom of mind?” the old man asked quietly in Azgedasleng and Clarke doubted he could be heard past the first few rows of assembled people.

 

“Yes, I do,” she replied, looking up at Roan and her stomach filled with nervous butterflies. No matter how well practiced the ceremony was she was still anxious, uncomfortable before such a large crown, especially as a crucial part of an alliance.

 

“Roan kom Azgeda, Haihefa of the Ice Nation, do you seek this union with good intention and freedom of mind?”

 

“I do,” Roan answered clearly, eyes burning down at Clarke. His confidence bolstered her own just a little.

 

“Then let us commence the binding,” Elder John said as he reached for a blade held by a young boy.

 

“Does this union have the support of Azgeda?” he asked as he handed the knife to the king.

 

“It does,” Echo answered, as the king’s second in command, standing at his shoulder. At her proclamation, Roan ran the blade through his hand, making a third mark on his palm for Clarke.

 

“I, Roan kom Azgeda, Haihefa of the Ice Nation, give myself in marriage to you, Clarke kom Skaikru, Wanheda of the Sky People,” he said, voice clear and strong, as he turned the hilt of the knife towards her.

 

“Does this union have the support of Skaikru?” the elder asked as the ceremonial blade exchanged hands.  


“It does,” Kane answered from behind her and Clarke sucked in a breath as she carefully cut her own palm.

 

“I, Clarke kom Skaikru, Wanheda of the Sky People, give myself in marriage to you, Roan kom Azgeda, Haihefa of the Ice Nation,” she said clearly as she closed her fist around the freely flowing blood and handed the knife back to Elder John who passed it to the attendant.

 

Roan interlaced their fingers, palms together, raised between their bodies and the warm press of his palm made her shiver. The elder started tying the ends of a black chord around the king’s wrist as Roan spoke clearly.

 

“I bind my life to yours,” he said as the chord was intricately bound around their joined hands.

 

“I pledge to protect you and our people,” Clarke felt the leather tug and hold their hands firmly together and felt the slow trickle of their commingled blood flow between their palms and down her wrist.

 

“I will honor you and walk the path ahead with you at my side,” he continued as the binding neared its end.

 

“Blood of my blood, heart of my heart, I am bound to you until I breathe no more,” he finished, eyes flickering in the low light.

 

“Oso tai choda op kom jus,” Roan said as the last knot was tied and the assembly watched silently. Clarke found her breathing had sped up and cleared her throat when it faltered as she started to speak.

 

“I bind my life to yours,” Clarke said clearly as a red chord was fastened around her wrist, already streaked with blood. The odd symmetry that her blood now bled black to his red was not lost on her.

 

“I pledge to protect you and our people,” she continued, their hands pressing even closer together as the red chord bound them firmly. She felt his fingers tighten on her hand and raised her eyes from where she was watching the binding to meet his.

 

“I will honor you and walk the path ahead with you at my side,” she said and found that though the words were foreign on her tongue there was some truth to them. What Roan was doing to help them survive was no less of a sacrifice than it was for her and they would face the future together.

 

“Blood of my blood, heart of my heart, I am bound to you until I breathe no more,” she finished strongly, voice louder and more even than it had been when she started.

 

“Oso tai choda op kom jus,” she finished with the last knot and she felt a little lighter now that it was done, her eyes softening as a small quirk of a smile graced her full lips. A flash of surprise flickered over Roan’s features before he schooled them back into his regal mask.

 

The elder placed his hands on their joined ones and muttered lowly for a moment. Clarke was unable to make out any of what he said so she focused on the flow of the murmurs, the only sound in the silent hall. The whole hall seemed to be holding its collective breath in anticipation.

 

He turned their joined hands to create a surface and placed Roan’s left hand on top of their bound ones, flipping it to position the inside of his wrist facing up toward the ceiling. An attendant stepped forward and handed the elder a thick leather glove. Clarke took a deep breath, knowing that the wedding brands were part of the ceremony, but could admit that she was a little nervous about the practice. They would have an infinity symbol placed on the insides of their left wrist and the doctor in Clarke hesitated knowing just how many things could go wrong on the delicate skin and the tendons that ran so close to the surface.

 

Elder John retrieved a thick wire mould of the symbol and pressed it firmly onto Roan’s wrist. He didn’t do more than clench his jaw, keeping his eyes firmly on Clarke, but she imagined it was a familiar pain for him. It was over in seconds but the sizzle and smell of scorched flesh made her a little nauseous. After inspecting the brand, Elder John reached for her hand and placed her wrist in Roan’s open palm.

 

He cradled her hand gently and squeezed slightly in reassurance when he saw her pale a little knowing it was time. Elder John retrieved the reheated brand from the coals and Clarke took a shuddering breath. She looked up from their joined hands and focused on Roan’s eyes as she felt the heat near the delicate skin of her wrist. She focused on the defining their colour as she felt the burning brand make contact with her skin and the flare of pain echo from wrist to shoulder. She bit down on her lip, but held his gaze and she could see a small smile lift the corners of his lips as the brand was removed and she let out the breath she had been holding. Her eyes were watering and all she wanted to do was scratch at the new mark, but she held fast, tightening her hold on his hand that was bound to her.

 

“Roan kom Azgeda is declared wed to Clarke, azplana kom Azgeda. Long may they reign,” he declared in a booming voice that startled her in both volume and passion.

 

The assembled crowd roared to life and her world was a cacophony of sound that threatened to overwhelm her. They turned to face the people and Clarke couldn’t help but tighten her fingers around her new husband’s as she saw the sea of faces. Roan tugged her forward a step and raised their still bound hands in the air, causing another wave of sound to erupt.

 

Indra stepped forward causing the sound to die down a little. She looked determined as her eyes briefly flickered over to Roan but focused on Clarke.

 

“Heiheda,” she said and kneeled before the platform. She maintained eye contact until the last moment when she bowed her head.

 

“Heiheda,” came the echoing sentiment from the assembled Azgeda warriors, and soon a ripple of movement and sound echoed through the hall as all assembled took a knee before the new queen. Even Skaikru, sensitive to the relevance of the action, kneeled before her and Clarke suddenly found it very hard to breathe as the reality of what she had agreed to crashed down around her.

 

She felt a tug on her raised hand and turned to see Roan bend down on one knee, their clasped hands still held between them. He bent his head, but as she had during her pledge to him, maintained eye contact with her. Seeing him kneeling on the ground before her with a small smile helped her force breath into her lungs and the tremor from her fingers.

 

“Azplana,” he murmured and kissed the back of her hand where it was bound to his. He rose and the elder stepped forward once again with the ceremonial blade. With a couple of quick flicks of the knife their hands were freed and her left hand was bound to his right for the coming feast. Roan was left-handed so his sword hand was left free to defend his new wife if need be.

 

The crowd rose once their hands were bound once more and the leaders of the clans in the alliance stepped forward. Each spilled blood before her and swore their allegiance to the new queen of the Ice Nation and co-leader of the Coalition. When it was Kane’s turn she swore she could see a suspicious shine to his eyes but his voice was loud and clear as he spoke the words that the others had spoken before him.

 

It was done.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the feedback on the last chapter! You guys really make my day. 
> 
> I rearranged my chapter breaks for the last two chapters, so there was supposed to be more at the end of this, but it was getting really long, and the chapter 6 would have ended up super short. So I've split this a little earlier than intended from the next chapter. It just means there will be more one-on-one time at the start of Chapter 5 rather than diving straight into the next bit of action. So hopefully that works in the long run. 
> 
> Enjoy and happy weekend to all!

 

The royal couple had left the hall to wait in a small antechamber until everyone was assembled for the feast. As they entered the room Clarke spotted a sofa at one end, and forgetting she was still bound to Roan was pulled to a stop when he paused to survey his surroundings.

 

“Sorry!” she apologized with a nervous laugh, and Roan raised a corner of his lips in response. “I think I need to sit down a moment. I’m feeling a bit light-headed.”

 

The smile dropped and was replaced by a frown. He was obviously concerned and led her to her initial destination. It may be symbolic and some would argue romantic to remain bound together, but Clarke just felt awkward. She collapsed onto the cushions with a happy sigh but fussed as she forgot about her mantle and the intricate clothing she wore. It was made for standing, not collapsing in a heap much to her frustration.

 

“Allow me,” Roan reached his free hand to unclasp the ornate metal broach that held her mantle in place, tugging once to free it from her as she leaned forward into him to allow space for him to maneuver. He smelled of leather and metal and the ground after it rained and it made her earlier disorientation come back with a vengeance.

 

“Thank you,” she sighed as she leaned back, closing her eyes as her head hit the back of the furniture.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern heavy in his tone.

 

“Yes,” she replied, not opening her eyes. “It was just a bit more full on than I expected it to be.”

 

“Full on?” he repeated, amused at a turn of phrase they obviously didn’t use any longer.

 

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” she admitted with a small smile, cracking one eye open to find him watching her closely, one eyebrow raised. The brand burned on her wrist, but the pain had dulled to a throb rather than an insistent pain and had become bearable. It still itched like crazy though and she searched for a topic of conversation so she could distract herself from the urge.

 

“You did well, Clarke,” he complimented, settling back against the sofa and tugging her arm into a more comfortable position for himself. Her own arm was stretched uncomfortably unless she leaned closer to him, and she shifted slightly on the lumpy sofa, consenting to move just a little closer and putting a little less strain on the limb. She raised her eyebrows at the gesture and he smiled widely in return, wholly unapologetic.

 

“It is done,” he added in a serious tone. “You will be crowned properly at the commencement of the feast and then we can get to work.”

 

Her features fell a little, the reminder of what was coming, and what all this was for. There would be many days of hard work ahead for everyone and there were no guarantees that any of them would survive. One large hurdle had been cleared, the marriages all done, and now there would be three nights of feasting to celebrate the royal wedding.

 

“I never thought I would get married,” she said as the silence wore on between them, not uncomfortable, just uncertain. She heard a huff of laughter from beside her.

 

“No, neither did I,” he said and she thought, not for the first time, that maybe they were more alike than they knew. They had a long road ahead and maybe it called for a little more openness between each other.

 

“After my father was executed,” she started, licking her lips and looking out over the ornate room they found themselves in. “I couldn’t imagine ever trusting anyone like he did my mother. I never understood why she didn’t try and stop them from killing him. If she could betray him, there was no way I would ever let anyone close enough to do that to me. Though I spent the next few months in solitary confinement in prison at Abby’s insistence so I suppose that didn’t endear me to her or anyone else really.”

 

When she dared look to her left she found Roan’s eyes on her once more, a deep frown over his features. He watched her intently for a moment before shaking his head. She had given him a lot of information and assumed it would take him some time to filter through and find what significance he wanted from it.

 

“We have that in common then,” he said gruffly, glancing away. “My mother had my father executed when she grew tired of how marriage restricted her ability to run the kingdom as she saw fit. Nia had a justifiable reason at the time but it came down to her quest for power. I imagine part of the reason was also her rather indiscriminating series of lovers.”

 

“She was certainly a delightful woman,” Clare sniped sarcastically and Roan rewarded her with his low rumbling laugh.

 

“To be fair, after learning about your mother, I’m no longer certain the same can’t be said about her,” he said, and Clarke couldn’t help the surprised giggle that came boiling out of her. Marcus and Abby chose that moment to enter the room and Clarke couldn’t help the laughter when she saw her mother’s shocked face.

 

“Married life either agrees with you or has already driven you to insanity,” Kane said as he approached the seated pair, curiously watching the young blonde as she tried to control the laughter bubbling out of her. It was a picture of contrasts; she was made up to look fierce and powerful, the man tied to her side even more so and she was giggling like a schoolgirl.

 

“Chancellor Kane, healer Griffin,” Roan nodded at the arrivals, eyes guarded with knew knowledge.

 

“Your highness,” Kane acknowledged, inclining his head briefly. “Everything proceeded as expected.”

 

Roan nodded and looked at Clarke who had finally controlled her laughter. He smiled warmly at her and she found the last bubbles of mirth drying up at the weight the look carried.

 

“Clarke,” Kane’s voice moved her focus to the chancellor who was watching her fondly. She watched as he took a knee beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We are very proud of what you’ve managed to accomplish here today.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, unsure of how the statement made her feel.

 

“You always were Jake’s daughter, Clarke,” her mother added, eyes full of motherly affection, but glittering with something darker. “He would be very proud.”

 

Clarke nodded at her mother, not trusting herself to speak and felt her new husband shift on the sofa beside her. She was unsure of how her revelation about Abby would affect his view of her, but she had found herself speaking without thinking too much about it for once. When she looked over it was to find him watching her mother with sharp eyes, a contemplative look on his face. The atmosphere in the room was less comfortable than it had been only minutes earlier.

 

“We will see you both at the feast,” Kane said as he rose from the ground, glancing between the pair.

 

Clarke nodded as she accepted a slightly awkward hug from her mother and watched the couple leave once again and two attendants enter to see to the royal couple.

 

Clarke gratefully accepted a goblet of a honey-mead the grounders were famous for, it never failed to warm her insides and make the tips of her fingers tingle pleasantly. She flexed her hand around the cup and hissed at the sting of pain from her palm. She put her goblet down on the ground near her feet and looked at her palm, three neat lines crossing it, one gaping open and oozing dark blood. She closed her fingers over it to take the strain off the skin, the warm pulse of pain echoed in her wrist as well.

 

“Here,” Roan tugged gently at their joined hands holding out a bowl and length of cloth the attendants had left with him.

 

“It feels like we’ve done this before,” she joked as she placed her wounded palm atop their joined ones as he balanced the bowl precariously in his lap and set about cleaning off her hand. He only hummed in reply as he focused on the skin and made quick work of cleaning away the rust colored patches where their blood had co-mingled before wrapping it up with a little less finesse than last time, his other hand stuck to her own.

 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while sipping at their drinks, each lost in their own thoughts before Echo entered and gave the pair a look.

 

“We are ready, sire,” she said, looking only at Roan. It appeared she would not be quick to thaw her icy demeanor toward Clarke any time soon. The king rose, using their joined hands to help her up. She smoothed her ruffled clothing as best as she could, suddenly self-conscious, knowing all eyes in the room would be on her once again. Echo watched her, and her eyes lightened on the discarded cloak with a shake of her head.

 

“Here, azplana,” she said, the formal address sounding a little forced, as she draped the edges of the mantle over Clarke’s shoulders, fastening the clasp once more at her throat. She gave her a long look, before turning abruptly, leading the way out of the antechamber.

 

Clarke’s shoulders dropped on a sigh, and she heard Roan’s low chuckle.

 

“I thought you were supposed to support me now,” Clarke grumbled as they slowly followed the severe young woman. “I still think she’s plotting to kill me in my sleep.”

 

“Well, seeing as she’d have to kill me first, I doubt she’d try,” he said, glancing down at her with laughter in his eyes. “Though, I wouldn’t take her up on any offers to spar. Or accompany her down any dark hallways alone.”

 

“You’re supposed to allay my fear, Roan,” Clarke said in a horrified tone. “Not encourage it!”

 

He grinned widely and shrugged his shoulders casually.

 

“Some husband you’re turning out to be,” she muttered murderously and heard the sound of his rich laughter ringing out, echoing in the hallway. When they paused before the entry into the hall, the knot of tension in her throat and the nervous bile that rose in her stomach had eased a little.

 

~~~

 

Clarke’s eyes roved across the people of the assembled ten clans of the grounder alliance as she walked toward the two large chairs set apart on a raised dais for herself and her new husband. A place for the king and his new queen to preside over their people. She shivered, her nerves flaring to life as she walked toward the end of the room, trying to keep her breathing even and her chin high. It had started to sink in just how much about her life was about to change.

 

There were thirty couples that lined the way to the thrones. The pairs were the couples that had married for the different kru alliances and they all watched the progress of the royal couple. She caught Octavia’s eye as she reached the back of the room and found strength in the determination that glittered in her dark brown eyes. She straightened her spine and Octavia quirked a brow at her, amused.

 

“We are here to celebrate the completion of the blood bonds that now bind together all the clans of the Coalition,” Roan addressed the room as they stopped at the top of the dais and faced the crowd.

 

“We are all now connected by blood, part of one clan. We share one dream and it beats in tune with every heart of every member of our people. As we face praimfaya we will do so as one and will work united to find a way to save as many as we can. Each day brings us new hope and the unions here today demonstrate that we will succeed. We will rise from the ashes of the old world and soar through the skies of the new one yet to come.”

 

The crowed roared to life, responding to the charismatic man and the jovial atmosphere. He nodded to an Azgeda warrior who stood near the edge of the dais and he approached bearing a delicate bone coronet. Elder John followed close behind. Clarke kneeled before Roan and the elder, bowing her head as the circlet was placed in her curls, feeling the press of steel and bone as it settled on her temples. It was heavier than expected and felt out of place on her head.

 

A quick squeeze around her fingers had her looking up at Roan and rising again to stand beside him.

 

“I present Clarke kom Azgeda,” Roan said as faced the crowd once again. “My wife and your new queen.”

 

The crowd erupted once more and the assembled couples bowed before them. She backed up a step and felt the back of her knees meet the throne and sat as Roan did. She looked over at him briefly hearing him sigh with relief.

 

“You did well, Roan,” Clarke said with a smile, echoing the words he had said to her several times before. “Everyone looks ready to enjoy themselves.”

 

“I’m just glad it’s over,” he admitted, settling back against his chair to watch the people before them. “I’m not much for making speeches.”

 

Clarke smiled at him and shook her head. He was certainly a surprise at times. The confidence and authority that he commanded the people with did not suggest that he disliked making speeches, especially when they roused such a reaction. She turned her smile out at the group but it evaporated as her eyes locked with Bellamy’s. He stood next to his sister, watching her with an angry intensity.

 

To say that Bellamy Blake had been unhappy with the proposed terms of the Coalition would have been the understatement of the millennium. Clarke had only heard a second-hand account from Octavia, but she had told the blonde that Bellamy had threatened to lock her under the floor again if she volunteered to be one of the people who would partake in the marriage alliances. This had obviously been the worst possible thing to say to the still undecided warrior who had promptly ridden all the way to Polis the same afternoon and stormed up to Clarke to tell her that she would happily volunteer to marry a stranger as long as it got her far away from her brother.

 

The same brother who came the following day, not content to let sleeping dogs lie, and threatened Kane and Clarke with every form of retribution possible if they allowed his sister to throw her life away. Clarke had attempted to calm him, but he had not even allowed her a chance to speak before searching the city for his erstwhile younger sibling. Octavia had held strong however and Bellamy had eventually given in. Clarke assumed she had agreed to speak to him again if he let her make the decision and asked that Clarke require her new husband to leave his kru to live with Skaikru.

 

Clarke knew he was angry about her choice as well. He had spent a long hour in her company asking many versions of the question of why she even agreed to the idiotic idea in the first place. The young blonde knew he was hurt and angry. There had been something between them, she wouldn’t deny that, but she let it go for the sake of the bigger picture. They all had to, for the foreseeable future at least. Clarke knew she would honour her marriage as she should, but she was still uncertain where Roan stood on the matter. There was so much that had still been left unsaid.

 

She held Bellamy’s stare for a long moment, reliving their past and the emotions that had often overcome her when she would contemplate her world without him. Her heart seized in her chest and her breath rasped a little painfully. She had willingly made a choice today that basically eliminated the chance of pursuing a future with him and that knowledge settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. The spell was broken when he abruptly turned and marched out of the festival hall, leaving Clarke to let out a heavy breath.

 

“Lover’s quarrel?” Roan asked, when her attention was again back in the room. The question was asked with his usual dry humor, but she sensed something deeper and darker behind it. She frowned at him, trying to read the look in his pale blue eyes.

 

“We have never been anything like that,” she said truthfully.

 

“But there was always the hope of it,” he said plainly, holding her gaze.

 

“Maybe,” she agreed, dropping her eyes to their bound hands. “But not anymore.”

 

“You do not need to make concessions on my behalf, Clarke,” he stated, sipping from a cup as his eyes travelled over the room. “If you are discrete about it, your affairs are your own.”

 

Clarke frowned, wondering for the first time if maybe there was someone out there waiting for him. Someone he had hidden away in his own heart and hoped to carry on a relationship with, even while married to her. He had never mentioned anyone but they rarely spoke of such personal things. The only reason he knew about Bellamy was due to all the time he had spent in their company and the times he had directly witnessed their concern for each other. He had probably always assumed there was something going on between them, even though he was fully aware of her relationship with Lexa.

 

Her eyes tracked over the people in the hall. The air had lightened and filled with sound and laughter. An eclectic collection of instruments made music unlike any Clarke had heard before in the far corner of the room. People seemed genuinely happy to be celebrating. She looked to the couples that had been joined as a result of this coalition and some were engaged in deep conversations with friends and family of both their clans. There were some that seemed more reluctant and distant, like Echo and her new Trikru husband, but in general, there was sense of unity in the face of impending disaster.

 

Clarke knew that she may never have a romantic relationship with Roan, and though she could see the possibility of scratching an itch somewhere, she could never do as he suggested. She couldn't keep anyone on the sidelines, especially Bellamy. He deserved a chance at happiness, one he had tried to find with Gina the last time she had left him behind for the greater good. She thought back to the softness in his eyes before Gina died and knew she wanted that for him again. And if it took Clarke letting any future ‘them’ go with her marriage today, she would do it. For his sake and maybe equally for her own.

 

She looked back over to her left, the dark-haired king seated beside her may expect her to seek her happiness elsewhere, but maybe it would be enough to be content with what she had chosen. At least until the bunker doors opened once again. But they had a whole day together tomorrow so she was certain the opportunity would arise to talk about it again. For now she would enjoy watching people be happy, and try to find some of that happiness for herself as well.

 

*~*~*

 

Roan stood silently before her as the elder produced a blade and with a few deft flicks of his wrist, released their bound hands. He nodded at the king and queen and quickly made his exit. Once the doors shut behind him and they were alone, Roan let out a long breath and reached for the clasp that held his mantle on, turning away from her as he shrugged out of the garment. He moved further into the chamber, laying the mantle with care over a chair and he continued to unbuckle the leather coat that made up the outer layer of his wedding garb. He quickly shrugged out of it, leaving him in a dark long-sleeved shirt, and walked over to a long table that ran along the side of the room.

 

“Drink?” he asked, shooting a look over to where she still stood rooted to the spot, the loose chords dangling from her fingers.

 

“Sure, thanks,” she said, flexing her now freed hand and following suit by divesting herself of her mantle and the heavy belt that held the outer layer of her dress together. She carefully slipped it off her shoulders, gently laying it over her mantle, the material must be incredibly valuable and she didn’t want to risk any damage to it.

 

A tap on her elbow had her glancing down to Roan’s bloodstained hand holding a goblet of honey mead. She accepted it and looked around the room for something to clean it for him. Taking a sip and setting her cup down on the table next to where he sat, she crossed the room to where she spied a washbasin and grabbed a cloth and a small bowl and filled it with water.

 

She pulled her chair around to face him, sitting down and balancing the bowl in her lap, hands held out for his expectantly.

 

“I can manage,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Humour me,” Clarke replied with a small smile. The king sighed but extended his hand toward her, the petulant action making him appear younger than usual.

 

She wrung water out of the cloth and turned his hand to clean the back of it first where rust and black streaks dirtied the tanned brown skin. Having completed the simple task she dipped it back into the bowl, leaving a bit more water in it and placed it over his palm to soak away the dried blood.

 

“It seemed everyone was happy,” Clarke remarked, glancing up at Roan as she pressed the cloth against his hand. “Do you think this means the alliance will keep the peace?”

 

“Celebrations always make people happy,” he answered a little cynically. “But it seems reason enough to hope. Especially since some of the unions appear well received.”

 

Clarke hummed in agreement, looking back at his palm, running the cloth along the sides of the cut. It was clean and straight as the others had been and she was fascinated at the three lines that bisected the surface. The first was closest to the base of his hand and completely healed, the second above it also freshly healed and pink. The newest cut was deep and bisected what she remembered being referred to as the heart line in ancient palmistry. The bleeding had stopped some time ago, but new bright red pinpricks welled up as she cleaned away the old blood.

 

“I meant what I said before,” Clarke said softly, keeping her eyes focused on her task, though it didn’t require such intent concentration. “There is nothing between Bellamy and I. If there had ever been a chance before, it’s over. It wouldn’t be fair.”

 

Roan didn’t say anything in reply and she cast a quick look up at his face, finding him watching her closely, blue eyes narrowed in thought.

 

“To Bellamy or to you?” he asked.

 

“To anyone,” she replied softly. “I told you before I never thought I’d marry, but now that I am, I don’t want to do anything to risk the trust between you and I.”

 

“But if I was aware of the arrangement, there would be no broken trust,” he pointed out, and Clarke felt color rise in her cheeks.

 

“I know an arrangement like that would never work for me,” she started. “And for the sake of honesty, it’s not something I would want. I don’t trust him the way I used to. I’m not sure I ever will again. Especially not in this particular circumstance.”

 

“After he slaughtered the grounder army and allied with Pike,” he said. It was a statement, not a question, but Clarke nodded, surprised he had known about the events that happened while he had been up north reclaiming his home.

 

“If you have someone,” Clarke cleared her throat, unsure as she looked away from his perceptive gaze. “I’m okay with it. I’m not asking for anything, I’m just. I just wanted to tell you that the thing with Bellamy is nothing. It won’t affect us.”

 

Roan chuckled and the sound caused her to look up at him sharply, his eyes were warm and he seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. It irritated her immensely and made her feel very young.

 

“I don’t have anyone waiting on me, Clarke,” he said after watching her for a moment, a soft smile on his face.

 

“Well if that ever changes,” she said frowning, unsure of where to go from there so she let the comment hang uncomfortably. She looked back at his hand, lifting the cloth from the wound and inspecting it briefly, satisfied it was clean before putting the cloth back in the bowl. She placed everything on the table and felt his fingers tighten around her own, pulling her hand toward him.

 

“Thank you,” he said, eyes dark and intense as he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. Clarke felt her breath catch slightly, completely unbalanced after their conversation and now the intimate thank you. He seemed to understand his effect on her and smirked before reaching for his drink once again.

 

Clarke copied his action, taking a large gulp of the mead, feeling it settle warmly inside of her. She relaxed back against her chair feeling suddenly very tired. It had been a very long and taxing day. She yawned widely before eyeing the bed in the back of the room. She frowned suddenly, having not given their sleeping arrangements a thought until it became a pressing need.

 

“I am not expecting us to consummate this marriage, if that’s what you’re worried about, Clarke,” he said, looking at her intently. “I prefer my partners willing.”

 

“That’s not-“ Clarke started, eyes wide. This was another conversation she had no idea of how to navigate. She was no blushing virgin, but after the previous conversation where they both basically implied they would remain faithful, at least for now, it left her not knowing what to say.

 

“We have to share this chamber tonight and preferably for the rest of the week,” he continued, dismissing her aborted attempt at a reply. “If you want me to I will sleep on the floor.”

 

Clarke was surprised at the chivalrous offer, but she knew shouldn’t have been. He had never treated her with anything less than respect, even when they were at odds. She flicked her eyes over to the bed. It was large and these had been his chambers for a couple of months. She was certainly mature enough to share a sleeping place. It wouldn’t be the first time they had slept next to each other after all.

 

“Thank you,” she said and thought she saw a brief flash of disappointment before she continued. “But we can share the bed. Once we move into the bunker we will be sharing a room, so I don’t see any reason to not to get used to it.”

 

He watched her for a moment in silence before nodding. He rose and walked off into the alcove where the washbasin was. She let out a breath and went to run her fingers through her hair. When she snagged her fingers in the first of the braids she sighed. It would take her hours to unbraid her hair and the task would be even less manageable if she left it until morning. Her fingers brushed against her coronet and she gently pulled it out of her hair and set it next to her wedding garb.

 

Clarke quickly unclasped and removed the corseted leather vest around her middle, leaving her in a soft, deep red undershirt. She bent down to unlace her boots and pull them off along with the red chord, leaving the soft leather trousers on for now. She cast a look around for a mirror or a reflective surface but the only one available was a dimly lit window. Approaching it while searching her hair with deft fingers she struggled to find the best place to start.

 

“Let me,” Roan’s voice carried through the room and she saw his slightly distorted reflection approach.

 

“Okay,” she said, casting a look over her shoulder. She felt him begin to work through her hair, pulling on different sections, freeing the braids from their intricate crown. He worked in silence with sure and precise movements that spoke of experience and it had her burning with curiosity. Clarke had no idea how much grounder men, Azgeda men specifically, knew of braiding. Most of her experience was with Trikru and it seemed something women spent more time on. But she bit down on her lower lip, not wanting to disturb the quiet that settled as time wore on.

 

“There,” he said, combing his fingers through her curls from scalp to ends which sent a flurry of shivers down her spine. If he noticed her reaction he didn’t show it, instead he turned toward the bed.

 

The thank you died on her lips as she turned around to see him pull his loose undershirt over his head, exposing the tanned expanse of his scarred back. He had changed out of his leather trousers and into a pair of made out of softer, looser material. They clung to his trim hips and she couldn’t help admiring his body. She averted her eyes before he noticed as he climbed onto the bed, collapsing onto it, obviously weary after a long day.

 

She walked quietly into the alcove, scrubbing at the make-up on her face until her skin was pink and clean. She slipped out of her bottoms and took a moment to consider her bed attire. After such a long day she couldn’t work up the energy to worry about what would be appropriate to wear. Grounder culture placed less value on modesty and didn’t seem to worry about nudity and Clarke’s scientific mind approved. Why hide away body parts when everyone looked pretty much the same at the end of the day.

 

When she walked back into the room she found Roan already asleep, an arm thrown over his face to block out the last of the light. She was surprised that he had relaxed enough to fall asleep around her; it was not something he had appeared to do on their way to Polis all those months ago. She paused a moment to watch his body relaxed in sleep until she felt like a voyeur. Clarke quickly extinguished the remaining candles and crawled under the furs and she saw him crack one eye open as she did. She rolled over to face the wall and tried not to think about the fact that she woke up this morning as Clarke Griffin and was now going to sleep as queen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sick and miserable but I decided to post this a day earlier than planned. Because there's a bit of a cliffhanger at the end, I will try to post Chapter 6 in a couple of days. Fingers crossed this stupid flu will let me!
> 
> As always, thanks for all your support. I'm constantly in awe that people are still enjoying this :) I'll try and reply to everyone tomorrow.

 

Clarke slowly woke to muted sunlight filtering through dirty windows and closed her eyes again as she snuggled deeper into the bed, not quite ready to wake yet. She still felt exhausted, though she knew she had slept the whole night through for the first time in a long time. Maybe she had slept too much and it had the opposite effect of making her more tired and she tried to get her bearings while her mind cleared itself of sleep.

 

Her eyes popped open when she heard movement in the room and snuck a look out of her pile of furs. The door to the chamber swung open and she heard a buzz of voices that were too low to make out. There was a clatter of dishes and she realized that food must have been brought up for them. The events of the past day came flooding back into her tired mind in a blur.

 

“If you’re finished hiding,” Roan’s voice rumbled from where the table was. “There’s breakfast.”

 

“I wasn’t hiding,” Clarke grumbled as she sat up, stretching her hands above her head. “I was luxuriating considering this is the first day this week I don’t have a lesson, meeting, or a time to keep.”

 

The king laughed softly at that, and she snuck a look at him. His hair hung loose around his shoulders and he had pulled a loose shirt on over his soft pants and looked decidedly unlike what she had become used to. She always associated him with sharp lines, heavy leathers and furs, and hard words. This morning he looked soft, approachable, and surprisingly young.

 

She looked around the room, hoping a helpful little elf had left her some clothes over night, but found nothing so she pulled on the leather leggings from the day before. They would do until she found out where the rest of her things were. She knew there had been a request made for new clothes more befitting an Azgeda queen made for her, but had no idea where they could be found and her things from Arkadia were still in the guest suite she stayed in as far as she was aware.

 

“Sleep well?” Roan asked when she joined him at the table.

 

“Better than I have in weeks,” Clarke answered with a yawn. “Though I think that I’m more tired today than I was yesterday.”

 

He didn’t respond and she found his normal stoicism welcome, not quite a chatty morning person herself. She often sat in silence in Arkadia as Octavia and Raven talked at her a mile a minute and she ate, only interjecting the occasional grunt or word in reply until she felt more able to deal with being up and about. This morning they ate in silence, but it was decidedly comfortable.

 

“So what are we going to do today?” Clarke asked once she had finished the last of the fruit on her plate and sipped at the sweet earthy tea grounders often drank in the mornings. She knew they were expected to spend most of the day locked away inside, spending time alone together, but the thought grated a little at her. They didn’t have much time left on the surface, and she itched to move.

 

“I thought we’d go for a ride,” he replied, looking over at her as if expecting her to argue.

 

“Where?” she asked, excited at the idea.

 

“There are waterfalls about two hours west from here,” Roan answered with a quick quirk of his lips at her excitement. “I figured you would never have had an opportunity to see them before. Too busy warmongering and saving the world.”

 

Clarke let out a surprised laugh, delighted at the idea. Roan returned her smile and shook his head, rising to dress for the day’s activity.

 

“The handmaidens left a trunk of clothing for you last night,” he said pointing to a corner of the room where a large chest sat. “There should be something in there for you to wear.”

 

Clarke threw back the last of the tea and hurried over to find something appropriate to wear for a day outside. She was thrilled at the prospect of spending the day away from Polis and her new responsibilities.

 

*~*~*

 

After a couple of hours of easy riding, Roan indicated that it was time to dismount. They settled their horses near a small stream and Roan untied a saddlebag from his mount, easily shouldering it before adjusting the sword belt around his waist.

 

"We have to go the rest of the way on foot," he said, indicating a small trail that stretched into the patch of woods before them. He preceded her up the lightly worn path and Clarke could soon hear the rush of water filter through the thin foliage.

 

There was an abundance of wildlife in the area. Birdsong echoed through the tall deciduous trees, small mammals crashed through the undergrowth and above in the canopy, and the pleasing hum of insects vibrated through the air around them. Clarke followed the path of a large bee with her eyes, tracking its movement up into the trees where she could just make out a large hive several meters above the ground. She smiled at the sight, her memories filling with her first taste of honey at last nights feast, something she had never before imagined but often read about during her childhood. It had been sweeter than anything she had previously tried and she had practically gorged herself on the small puffed pastries that had been generously doused in the natural sugar. 

 

She looked ahead and noted that she had fallen behind. Roan was holding back a thick branch blocking the path, patiently waiting for her to take in the sights and sounds. She flushed and shot him a shy smile as thanks and preceded him into the clearing. She gasped as she laid her eyes on the tall waterfall, amazed at the sudden size and rushing noise of the water. The falls appeared tiered into the side of a mountain and she could just make out the third and topmost promontory if she craned her next back as far as she could.

 

"Up for a bit of a climb?" Roan asked when she looked over at him. 

 

"Absolutely," she said with a bright smile and he returned her enthusiasm with a boyish grin of his own. 

 

"Follow me," he said leading her to one side of the waterfall. "It looks worse than it is." 

 

Clarke wasn't sure she believed him, glancing skeptically up at the steep path that snaked up the side of the small mountain. The climb up was tough, but Clarke knew her experience with such things was limited at best. By the time they had made it up to the middle tier she was sweating and desperate to shed the jacket she wore. Roan looked at ease with the activity as he usually did and she shot a dirty look at his back before he turned to face her.

 

"We can go up to the top, but that section is a little more difficult," he said, eyeing her critically while she tried to keep her breathing as even as possible. "But the view is not much better any higher up."

 

Clarke glanced up at the top of the waterfall, but was quite awed with the scene that greeted her where she stood. The rush of the water was quieter up here and the water pooled before careening over the edge. There was a small rocky patch of ground near where the clear water pooled that looked perfect for sitting and when she turned around she was greeted by a view of the valley below them, the tower of Polis a small figure in the distance. 

 

"This is pretty incredible," she said eyes fixed on the horizon. She reached for the fastenings of her jacket and shrugged it off her shoulders, the air blowing coolly against her heated skin. She admired the view for a long moment before closing her eyes and letting the breeze flow around her. She turned to find Roan crouching down over the saddlebag, a couple of containers already spread out beside him.

 

“Can I help?” she asked as she sat down next to him, eyeing the bag curiously. He had disappeared while she dressed to organise their horses and supplies for a day outside. He shook his head, content to set the food out himself and she sat back on the warm rock.

 

“So how come we were allowed to escape tradition and spend the day out here?” Clarke asked, wanting to satisfy her curiosity. “I thought we were supposed to be locked away for at least a day.”

 

“You seem to forget that I am king,” he said with an easy laugh as he settled to sit across her, the small spread of fruit, breads and cheeses arranged between them. Her eyes lit up when she spied a small container of the honey pastries from the night before.

 

“I thought that was precisely _why_ we were supposed to stay put,” she teased reaching for the apple he offered her.

 

“With our time on the surface running short it seemed a waste,” he admitted with a shrug, eyes casting around the promontory and over to the horizon.

 

“I’m glad I’m not alone in dreading the bunker,” she admitted, reaching for one of the honeyed treats.

 

Roan let his eyes settle back on her and his scrutiny made heat rise in her cheeks once more when he didn’t say anything. His eyes strayed to her cheeks and he frowned slightly making Clarke self-conscious.

 

“What?” she asked, wiping at her warm cheeks as they heated further with embarrassment. “Do I have something on my face?”

 

“No,” he answered, eyes flickering back up to hers. “You don’t blush pink any longer.”

 

“What-“ Clarke trailed off, a sharp stab of panic in her chest at the observation. It took a long moment before her logic caught up with her initial panic and she looked down at her wrists, at the veins that now stood out a little darker against the pale skin of the inside of her wrist. With the change in colour of her blood, of course she wouldn’t blush pink any longer.

 

“The nightblood,” she said as she realized the cause with a frown. “I’m a little afraid to ask what colour I do blush now.”

 

“Your cheeks just darken,” he answered, his tone a little amused. “Like you’ve been out in the sun. It is different.”

 

“Different bad?” she couldn’t help asking and he laughed, shaking his head.

 

“No, just different from before,” he remarked, chewing slowly, eyes betraying his amusement.

 

“You noticed me blush before?” she pressed, an eyebrow raised, wanting to make him as uncomfortable as she felt under his scrutiny but by his smile at the question she was failing miserably.

 

“You have very pale skin, Clarke,” he pointed out. “You often blush when your emotions get the better of you.”

 

Clarke frowned at him, not sure if she was annoyed at the comment or impressed. She wondered idly how much time he had spent watching her in their time together. She knew his observations weren’t limited to just herself, he seemed extremely adept at reading people in general, a skill Clarke wished she could learn. It had certainly worked in her favour each time he had chosen to trust her rather than give in to the Azgeda way of settling disputes.

 

The pair settled into silence as they ate their lunch, Roan conspicuously pushing the container of pastries over to her after she eyed it hungrily. Clarke was content to observe the world around her, looking curiously around herself. The times she had sat still and enjoyed nature since she came to earth were extremely rare, and she had never done it somewhere that seemed to teem with life. It still amazed her, the incredible amount of species that filled the planet. She watched as birds chased each other through the sky and looked to the rippling surface of the water, curious if there was life in there as well.

 

She stood and walked to the edge of the pool when she had finished eating, peeking curiously into the clear water. She was still wary of any new body of water after their first experience with the ocean, though she had learned that it would be unlikely that there was anything dangerous in these depths. She was cautious as she touched her fingertips to the surface, not one to tempt fate. The water was freezing cold and her fingers numbed in less than a minute. She leaned closer to the surface, teetering precariously at the edge trying to see through the rippling water to the pebbled bottom below the surface.

 

“Care for a swim?” Roan’s voice startled her and she would have lost her footing if he hadn’t snagged her elbow.

 

“Is it safe?” she asked, heart racing in her chest as she found her balance once more.

 

“Yes,” he answered simply, letting her go of her arm as she settled back. “But it’s cold.”

 

“I think I’ll pass,” she admitted, sitting back on her bum. Roan settled down next to her and she glanced sideways, noticing that he had taken his jacket off and had pushed the long sleeves of his undershirt up his forearms. He was looking out at the waterfall, lost in his own thoughts absently spinning a stick between his long fingers.

 

“I never knew there would be so much life here,” Clarke admitted softly when the silence between them had lasted long enough. He looked over at her sharply as if surprised at her presence.

 

“Here specifically? Or on the planet in general?” he asked, looking back over the water.

 

“On earth,” she said. “We learned about animals and plants and insects and the oceans. We had films that showed us what everything looked like and how many different animals there were. But nothing prepared me for actually seeing it all, hearing it all.”

 

“I can’t imagine it would,” he said after a moment, and she knew it was something he probably couldn’t understand. To go from an empty, lifeless void to a rich ecosystem filled to the brim with things you never expected to ever lay your eyes on, and some they hadn’t know existed at all. To land in a world where silence didn’t exist any longer, there was always something buzzing away in the background. Something living and moving and breathing. Not the constant hum of heating and CO2 scrubbers and artificial gravity.

 

“In Azgeda,” Roan broke the silence. “There is never quite this much life. The summers bring thaw and with it many animals out of hibernation, but it doesn’t compare to this.”

 

“What are the winters like?” she asked, watching the flash of a fish as it reflected near the surface of the water.

 

“Cold and long,” he supplied nonchalantly. “We spend most of the days indoors, so there is a lot of companionship, a lot of storytelling. And many quarrels, especially once food becomes more scarce.”

 

“Do you not all share?” Clarke asked intrigued. She knew about families cooking their own meals and sharing only amongst themselves, it had been that way in the world Before, but it was a lost concept on the Ark. Everyone ate in the canteen and portions were rationed carefully and controlled for perfect levels of nutrition and necessity. The thought of anyone withholding food from others was very bizarre to her.

 

“Not until it becomes necessary,” he replied, glancing at her. “Life is very hard in Azgeda. It is not something I can explain. I would show you so you could understand but there won’t be time before Praimfaya.”

 

Clarke nodded, smiling at the offer, but it was accompanied as always by the sadness of the dying world. Life in the bunker would be closer to what she grew up with and it was not necessarily something she looked forward to.

 

“How did it work in space?” he asked after a moment.

 

“We ate at the canteen,” she answered with a shrug. “Each person was given ration credits for the day, adjusted based on need, but there was no excess. Sometimes, if you were well off, or worked in a higher position like my parents, you could trade credits for more food, or the occasional treat, like cake or sweets. But that was rare. I didn’t know how rare until I met the others.”

 

The deep burn of shame that always seemed to accompany her past flared in her chest and she drew her knees up in an effort to protect herself. She had always known growing up that she had been part of the privileged few in the Ark, but hadn’t truly understood the extent until she came to the ground. Not until she had survived her months of solitary confinement and had to distribute food amongst hungry delinquents. Until she saw the suspicion and disdain for her in nearly one hundred pairs of eyes as she tried to lead a group of long lost children.

 

“I imagine it will be the same in the bunker,” Clarke said with a sigh, the weight of responsibility settling heavily and she wanted to shake the unease of her past. Once a princess, now a queen, but neither title was one she earned or desired.

 

“Yes,” Roan agreed. “But we will manage. It is the only way forward.”

 

His final statement hung heavily in the air, the lightness of the morning wearing thin between them when they faced reality once again. She looked back out over the horizon, the sky a deeper blue that it had been this morning, signaling that it was nearing time for them to head back to Polis and the responsibilities that awaited them there.

 

Looking back at the beautiful waterfall, she wished she had charcoals and a sketchpad so she could replicate it perfectly, knowing her memory would be flawed. Roan shifted beside her but whipped his head around at the sound of a crack in the tree line ahead of them. Clarke turned her eyes in the direction of the sound to see a deer cautiously peek through the bushes before spotting them. Roan’s shoulders relaxed and he watched the animal quietly as she approached the water and drank, ears flicking uncertainly. Clarke couldn’t stop herself from shifting and the sound scared the poor creature, which turned tail and hopped away into the undergrowth.

 

When Roan looked back at her she was smiling softly at the spot where the deer had disappeared.

 

“It’s time to head back,” he said regret flickering in his blue eyes.

 

Clarke nodded and stood, turning to help him repack their empty containers into the saddlebags and refill the water bottles from the pool before starting the trek back down to the horses. Roan walked ahead of her and she managed quite well back down, only stumbling once but recovering her balance before she embarrassed herself completely.

 

Their horses whinnied happily when they reappeared from the tree line and Clarke greeted her dappled mare happily. The ride back to Polis seemed much shorter than the route out, but the couple made an effort to keep conversation light and easy between them. By the time dusk fell they rode side-by-side back into the walls of Polis and it felt like there was a new peace between them, tempered by a bit more understanding.

 

Clarke felt like they were well and truly friends and could rely on each other in the coming weeks to face praimfaya. The thought was as sobering as the tower where it rose before her and the lightness of the day seeped away a little. There was still a lot of work to do.

 

*~*~*

 

 

The week after the wedding had passed in a flurry of activity after their one day of relaxation. Clarke had accompanied Roan to every meeting of the Coalition and listened to seemingly endless and circular discussions about what they had left to prepare. They had yet to find any other bunkers, the storytellers had come up with a variety of ideas, but so far they had found nothing and it started to wear on Clarke’s optimism. The time left before the end was running out and they were so far from finding a solution that would help more than a fraction of the people left.

 

She was sitting beside Roan as they listened to an update about how the food supplies were faring when there was an urgent summons. Monty came carrying a radio asking to speak to them both and that it couldn’t wait.

 

Roan excused them from the confused councilors and promised to return shortly and report on their findings. Clarke was already halfway out the door and they quickly rushed down the hallway to the royal chambers to find some privacy, Monty hot on their heels.

 

“What is it, Monty?” Clarke asked once the door had closed behind Roan, eyes urgent on the young man. He simply shook his head holding up the radio for her.

 

“I think I’ve found something,” Raven’s voice scratched over the communication line, and Clarke frowned, shooting a look at Roan as he came up beside her.

 

“We’re listening,” Clarke confirmed, hearing the note of excitement in her friend’s voice. One that was generally reserved for something big.

 

“So you know that Tondc was essentially the former location of Washington, D.C., where the President lived, right?” Raven started, her voice speeding up in excitement.

 

“Yes,” Clarke nodded even though Raven couldn’t see her.

 

“Right, so basically after the Second World War the Americans started getting really paranoid about nuclear war, for good reason it turns out,” Raven continued and Clarke looked over to see Roan shift beside her before locking her eyes with Monty. “The files we managed to pull from A.L.I.E.’s databases were old and the encryption unlike anything I had ever seen before. It didn’t respond to the normal backdoor programming or anything that has been developed for the past fifty years. I was about ready to throw it all out, which was when I figured we were on to something.”

 

“Rae-“ Clarke interjected, getting impatient and she saw the same emotion reflected in Monty’s frown. “What did you find?”

 

“A bunker,” she said, her voice rising in excitement. “Well, possibly three. I can’t really tell, it seems that there is some sort of interconnected network designed for a selected population to survive at least fifty years probably many more.”

 

“How many people?” Clarke asked her breath lodged in her throat.

 

“All together? Four, maybe five, _thousand_ ,” Raven said and Clarke took a step back in shock. She reached a hand out to grip Roan’s forearm, unable to contain the excitement at the discovery.

 

“Where is the bunker?” Roan asked, looking over at Clarke, eyes lighter than normal, the only outward sign that he was affected by the news.

 

“About two days trip south-west of Polis,” Raven replied. “Maybe less.”

 

“And you think it’s still accessible? That there aren’t people living there?” Clarke asked.

 

“I know the President never made it to the bunker. D.C. was hit earlier than they anticipated so I think there’s real potential no one ever made it there. It was definitely highly classified information so I doubt many knew about it. It’s worth a shot right?” Raven’s voice crackled over the line.

 

“Yeah, totally. Thanks Rae, that’s really amazing news,” Clarke gripped the radio tight, a smile she couldn’t shake on her face. “We’ll get a group organized and to you as soon as we can. Tonight probably.”

 

“Cool, I’ll start prep here and be ready when you guys are,” Raven acknowledged before the line crackled into silence. She looked up at Monty who was grinning widely. Clarke threw her arms around her friend and laughed in delight.

 

“We have to go,” Clarke said, eyes alight in excitement, she knew it may result in disappointment, but they needed something. And the hope of something was better than nothing.

 

Roan watched her closely, his mind busily sorting through the new information. She frowned at him when it seemed he didn’t immediately spring into action. But in the two weeks she had spent in frequent company with him she had learned a measure of patience and waited for him to speak.

 

“We can have horses and riders prepared by this afternoon,” he said. “We will both go, but keep this from the ambassadors. If this turns out to be nothing, I do not want to offer false hope.”

 

“Okay,” she agreed, smiling. “Monty, can you go ahead to Arkadia and get a few people together and prepare a couple of vehicles? Enough for about eight to ten people?”

 

“Sure thing, Clarke,” he said. “Keep the radio, let me know when we can expect you and we’ll be ready to go.”

 

Monty left immediately, a spring in his step from the excitement of potential hope.

 

“What do we tell the ambassadors?” Clarke asked, looking at the king. Roan frowned at her, thinking.

 

“We say there has been a development for a medical solution that requires our attention,” he said after a moment. “It won’t give anyone false hope if it turns out to be nothing, but would offer enough justification for us to both go and investigate. We were both there last time.”

 

“And that won’t cause problems here at Polis?” Clarke asked.

 

“I will leave Echo in charge of my army while we are away,” he said. “She has led our people before and I trust her to do so again.”

 

Clarke nodded and they left to inform the assembled ambassadors of the recent developments. Before they re-entered the room Roan requested Echo be summoned back to Polis as soon as she returned from her training expedition with the Trikru warriors and her husband. They were due back in within a few hours and Clarke hoped they would be on time.

 

Roan spoke with his usual calm authority and though Kane shot her a questioning look, he appeared to be the only one who questioned the king. The meeting flowed back into the usual humdrum for Clarke as she allowed herself a moment to really hope that they would find place for more people. A bunker fit for the President would certainly have been not only well hidden, but also well provisioned.

 

Clarke was torn from her thoughts as the door to the room was forced open. Two burly warriors brandishing swords entered before a tall, red-haired man followed, carrying a large bag in one hand, his other on the hilt of his sword.

 

“Roan kom Azgeda,” a deep, gravelly voice rang out as the assembled ambassadors rose, their seconds standing, brandishing their own weapons at the threat.

 

“I come to challenge you for control of the Coalition and your authority as haihefa,” he announced, eyes dark and fierce as he dumped the contents of the bag he carried at the king’s feet. Out fell the severed heads of Echo and her recent husband with sickening thuds.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your kind words and here is the promised update for you! This chapter is shorter than any of the ones I've posted previously, and for that I'm really sorry. This is where the chapter break needs to be, but I will post again in another couple of days. So three updates this week instead of two! Hopefully that makes up for the length of this :)

“Cherno kom Ingranrona Kru,” Roan acknowledged coldly as he stood from his throne, Clarke echoing his movement, heart beating wildly against her ribcage. Cherno had been the first clan leader to send word that they would not be participating in the Coalition and Clarke now wondered if this had been his plan all along. It seemed a bold move for the nomadic desert clan who generally kept to themselves.

 

“On what grounds do you offer this challenge?” Yuri, ambassador from the Podakru asked, watching the man closely.

 

“The king made an alliance with a sworn enemy of our people, he claims to have knowledge of a second praimfaya but offers no proof and no sanctuary to all. He is unfit to rule as even his Second does not have the strength to oppose us,” he gestured to Echo’s head that stared with milky eyes up at the roof. Clarke swallowed the bile rising in her throat as the challenger’s attention turned to her.

 

“As a final insult, your azplana remains unmarked,” he finished and spat at her feet. Clarke frowned; confused at the last turn of phrase, but when she looked up at the ambassadors she found a few staring at her with a hint of suspicion and contempt. She felt ill at ease as she realized she was missing something crucial.

 

Clarke looked to her left, watching Roan who had yet to do more than grip the hilt of his sword. His expression was hard as he assessed the man before him and quickly ran over his assembled advisors. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stepped forward.

 

“I accept your challenge,” he said, voice dangerously low. “We will meet in combat in four hours time. Until then, arrest him. He will be allowed an hour of preparation under guard outside.”

 

There was a flurry of activity as several of the Azgeda royal guard disarmed and bound the trio who went with little resistance. Roan looked down at the heads still staring blankly out and his frown deepened. Clarke didn’t know what to do, she wanted to reach out to him, but found herself frozen, and too many suspicious eyes were turned her way.

 

“Ambassadors, you are dismissed. The challenge will be met in the arena and attendance is mandatory,” he said, and looked over at Clarke.

 

His eyes were hard as he turned and left the room without a word. She followed after him closely, trying her best to keep up with his quick pace. He moved toward their chambers, issuing quiet orders to an aide who appeared beside him, but Clarke couldn’t hear what was said. She could guess as she watched his shoulders move stiffly, the only obvious demonstration of his current state of mind.

 

As soon as the door to their chambers closed behind them Roan made his way over to the chest where she knew his armor and battle wear was kept. He had yet to say a word to her and Clarke still couldn’t process what had happened. She had been in the room but it felt like a scene from a nightmare. It must be shock. He had been challenged before, she knew this, but she hadn’t been there to see it happen. And it hadn’t felt like one of her own was going up against the firing squad.

 

“So you are just going to allow him to challenge you?” Clarke asked finally and Roan stopped his inspection of the jacket he had set on the table.

 

“I have no choice,” he replied with a look that made her feel about two feet tall.

 

“You just had him arrested! Leave him locked away,” she pressed. “We have more important things to do. You have an army at your disposal if his people come.”

 

“More important?” Roan asked pausing. “How exactly do you expect to keep control of the Coalition if they have no respect for their leader?”

 

“We tell them about the bunker and they will see that this can wait,” she insisted, voice rising with her frustration.

 

“It _cannot_ wait, Clarke,” he insisted, shaking his head at her dismissively. “It is our way. He killed my Second. He insulted my queen and accused me of being unfit to rule. I have to answer him or the ambassadors and the clans will turn against me. Turn against us. The bunker does not matter. If anything it will be taken from us by force.”

 

“But that’s ridiculous!” She exclaimed. She wanted to curse and scream. To do anything that would possibly change what had just happened and what was about to happen.

 

Roan shot her a hard look, but didn’t reply. He turned back to preparing his armor, returning to the chest to pull out padded leather trousers and his wrist guards. Clarke was stunned at his calm demeanor and casual attitude toward what was surely being blown out of proportion. A possible way for them all to survive and that was surely more important than maintaining appearances.

 

“Roan,” she implored, moving closer to him. “We don’t have time for this. We need to go find that bunker.”

 

“I would say that I do not expect you to understand this, but I admit that I am disappointed that you have so little regard for our people that you do not,” Roan sighed, a hint of frustration adding an edge to his tone. He was still calm, but she sensed the anger behind the words and oddly, disappointment.

 

“I understand you think you need to do this, but-“ she started.

 

“I do not _think_ I need to do this,” he cut her off, turning towards her with eyes blazing. “I do not _want_ to do this, but I _must_.”

 

“You-“ she tried to interject, but she could see the change in his body language.

 

“No, Clarke,” he was before her in three long strides, grasping her upper arms in a strong grip. His eyes burned into her. “I will meet Cherno in four hours time. If you care at all about what we are doing you will allow me the time to adequately prepare for this, so, if fate allows, I will win.”

 

“Can’t you nominate someone else to stand in your place?” she asked, grasping onto a last shred of hope. “Your mother nominated you in her place.”

 

“I will not let someone stand in my place,” he said, his nostrils flaring and eyes sparking with conviction. “I am not the kind of king who hides behind the arms of someone else’s sacrifice. I am nothing like my mother.”

 

Clarke snapped her mouth shut, knowing she had pressed to far, and waited while Roan searched her eyes until he found the answer he was looking for. He released her and strode back to his armor, ripping off his layers of clothing and donning the leather vest that fit snugly against his torso. His movements were coloured by his temper, his fingers ripping at buckles and buttons he normally took care with, before tossing the discarded garments in a haphazard pile.

 

She watched in silence, mind busily ticking away. When he went to change trousers, she glanced away in an attempt to keep her mind on track. His movements calmed as he donned the different pieces that made up his battle gear, becoming focused and precise with each snap and buckle. Her eyes strayed over to their bed and the pieces of their comingled life already evident after only a week of sharing quarters. Clarke could at least do her part while he prepared for the challenge.

 

“I will see to the preparations to the bunker then,” she said, her tone weary as she closed her eyes. She rubbed her forehead in frustration, still not used to the circlet of bone and metal she had to wear for the advisory meetings.

 

“Are you being this naïve on purpose?” Roan asked, and his tone was anything but neutral.

 

Her eyes shot open, surprised at the venom in his tone. She looked over at him and found him facing her, a look she was hard-pressed to describe turned her way. A shiver raced down her spine as he stared her down.

 

“Someone has to,” she muttered, with less confidence than before. She couldn’t help taking a step back as Roan stalked toward her.

 

“You will do nothing,” he bit out, hands clenched around the wrist guards he carried. A vein had started to pulse in his temple. So this was what it took to make that hard wall of icy control crumble. To finally crack the mask he held on to so tightly.

 

“I am going to that bunker,” she said, standing straighter, but she knew her tone didn’t carry the authority she hoped.

 

“There will be no warriors at your disposal, no supplies, no horses,” his eyes flashed as he spoke, voice edged with violence.

 

“Then I will go to Arkadia,” her own anger rose to meet his. Roan stared at her for a long moment before turning to the door.

 

“Tyko!” he practically roared at the door, causing the warrior and another guard to enter. “You will keep the azplana in these chambers until the challenge. She is not to leave.”

 

“Sire,” the men bowed in acknowledgment. They looked between the royal couple, but Roan’s expression left no doubt they were intruding. Tyko nodded and they both left the room, door closing firmly behind them.

 

“You cannot keep me locked in here like a child!” she cried, her own temper breaking. She balled her hands into fists and pressed them against her sides. She wanted to hit something. A king-shaped something ideally.

 

“If you insist on acting like one, I will do what I have to,” he said with finality, striding past her to gather his sword and jacket. “Do you need me to bind you as well or can I at least trust you not to attempt an escape?”

 

“I can’t believe you,” Clarke seethed, trying to keep her volatile emotions under control.

 

She felt tears gather in her eyes after the rollercoaster of highs and lows she had been through in the last hour. They may have found a way for more people to survive and now Roan was set to enter single combat to the death. One brash grounder and years of savage traditions threatened everything she had worked for and she was powerless to do anything to change what was about to happen.

 

“You will be expected to preside over the challenge,” Roan said gruffly, apparently through with his orders, shrugging into his jacket and fastening the clasps before strapping on his sword once more. “Tyko will bring you down and keep you safe regardless of the outcome. If it comes to it, he will bring you back to Arkadia.”

 

Clarke could feel him staring at her, but stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. She was struggling to understand why he needed to go through with the challenge. She could understand wanting to avenge Echo, but this seemed extreme. To risk his own life just to keep up appearances.

 

And with that chilling thought another occurred to her as his last words filtered through the angry fog in her mind. He may not win today. And not only would that mean that their alliance was broken, but she would also lose a friend. A friend she cared deeply for. She roused herself from her thoughts as he brushed past her, her anger draining out of her, making her hands quiver and her shoulders sag a little.

 

“Roan,” she called softly, voice shaking, making him pause in his journey to the door, but he didn’t turn to face her. She took two steps and grabbed his elbow, causing him to turn his head enough to see her in his periphery.

 

“What-“ her voice cracked so she cleared it and started again. “What happens if you don’t win?”

 

He sighed heavily and turned toward her, eyes tired.

 

“Then I expect the Great Wanheda, Clarke Griffin, Azplana kom Azgeda, my wife, to persist against the odds and save our people,” his voice rumbled with conviction, life returning to his expression. “I have no doubt you will save them with or without me.”

 

Clarke searched his eyes, holding his gaze, and felt the tears that threatened earlier spill over and trek down her flushed cheeks. His faith in her was astounding and she felt unworthy of it. Not when he was about to lay his life on the line once again for their people and the future of humanity. She stepped closer to him, standing up on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips softly to his.

 

She closed her eyes and held still a moment, enough time to note that his lips were so much softer than she had expected and she could imagine that the stubble on his cheeks would feel deliciously wicked along her own. She pulled back a fraction, eyes opening to meet his when he made no move to return the kiss. Her cheeks burned, embarrassment flushing her body as her actions caught up to her, and she released a short huff of breath in the millimeters of space between them. His eyes were open and watching her intently. She started to pull away and hoped he wouldn’t think too much of her impulsive action.

 

His hands caught her upper arms and she stilled, eyes still locked on his pale blue ones, a small frown on her face. He held a moment longer before he surged forward, crashing his lips down on hers. Clarke let out a sigh as he pulled her lower lip between his own, one of his hands leaving her arm to fist in the curls at the back of her head. He tugged firmly to angle her head and when she opened her lips his tongue made quick entry in to duel with her own. His hand tugged on her hair and the soft stubble on his cheeks abraded her own and combined in a frenzy of sensations which left her breathless. She let him take full control of the kiss and relished under his lead as she gripped his shoulders tight.

 

Roan was angry and frustrated and dominated the kiss but there was something deeper and more intense that left Clarke’s knees weak. His fingers gripped her arm tightly and his lips bruised her own. Whatever he wanted to take from her she gave, returning the passion and intensity, pouring her own fears and frustrations into the kiss.

 

When he pulled back, they were both panting, Roan’s eyes darker and pupils dilated wide. Clarke watched him, unable to keep her own emotions in check. The hand in her hair slid under her ear to cup her cheek as he stepped back from her. She felt the rough ridge of his thumb slip down the soft column of her throat as he slowly pulled away from her.

 

“May we meet again,” Clarke whispered before he let go of her completely, fresh tears tracking down her cheeks.

 

“May we meet again, my queen,” he nodded before turning and striding with purpose out of their chambers. As soon as the doors closed behind him, Clarke collapsed into the closest chair, resigned to wait and desperately hope that there would be an opportunity to repeat that kiss in the future.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been absolutely floored by the most recent response. You guys are awesome. I really have no words other than thank you so much!
> 
> Without further ado, here is the next chapter. It's certainly A LOT longer than the last one, but I just had to end chapter six on that kiss and let them have their moment.

Clarke sat in silence, running through the last hour’s events in her mind. Her lips still tingled from the unexpected kiss she had shared with Roan but her mind couldn’t stay still. One question still weighed heavily on her. Cherno had accused her of not being ‘marked’ and she couldn’t figure out what that meant.

 

She doubted it referred to consummation of the marriage, as that was something that he had no way of knowing. They still maintained one living space, sharing a bedroom and the common areas the royal chambers in polis offered so unless someone was spying on them at night, their personal business behind closed doors remained their own. She absently ran her fingers over the wedding brand on her wrist as she ran through what she could remember of the lessons Elder John had given her prior to the wedding.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by one of her guards entering.

 

“Chancellor Kane kom Skaikru, azplana,” he announced with a bow when she nodded.

 

“Clarke,” Kane entered, his concern written plainly on his face. “Roan is preparing for the challenge?”

 

“Yes,” she replied quietly, looking away. She was too distracted to hide the worry on her face.

 

“He will win, Clarke. He is an exceptional warrior. You must have faith in him,” he said, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder. She shook her head with a wry smile.

 

“Why does it feel like I’m living a life straight out of a romance novel?” She scoffed, rubbing at her temples. “I’m a queen in a savage land, my husband forced to take arms in protection of our people.”

 

Kane chuckled humorlessly, but didn’t disagree. She looked up to find him watching her closely. She wasn’t sure what prompted this visit other than perhaps concern for their future.

 

“I know he’s a great fighter,” Clarke admitted. “The only time I’ve ever seen him lose is against Lexa and I’m not sure his heart was in that fight. I’m not entirely convinced he wanted Nia in control of the Coalition. He certainly didn’t volunteer as her representative.”

 

“Well, he has more than enough reason to win today,” Kane said with a grim twist of his lips.

 

“We will just have to wait and find out,” she sighed and looked out the grimy windows from where she sat. The sun penetrated through the grey skies dully. She looked back at Kane hopefully that he might have some insight on her questions.

 

“What did Cherno mean by the queen not being marked?” she asked. “Maybe I just didn’t understand the phrasing, but it seemed he wasn’t alone in his concern.”

 

“No, unfortunately not,” Kane agreed, sitting heavily in one of the chairs next to her own. “I think he means you haven’t been initiated into Azgeda by scarification. All Azgeda of high standing have some form of markings on their face to make them immediately recognizable.”

 

“But we have matching wedding brands,” she noted, glancing down at the healing pink flowing lines of the sideways figure eight on the inside of her left wrist.

 

“I believe those are seen as something unique to marriage,” Marcus shook his head. “All the rulers have had some form of distinctive facial brand that marks them as a monarch or as a member of the royal family. They are a form of identification as well as rank.”

 

“Roan’s crescents?” she asked, frowning. “Nia had crescents as well. He hasn’t even mentioned it to me. Neither did the elder who prepared me for the ceremony.”

 

“Maybe he thinks you wouldn’t accept?” Kane mused, shrugging. “It is a tradition that is very specific to each of the grounder clans. Azgeda seem to be the only ones who exclusively use scarification on their people.”

 

“Trikru have tattoos, that’s not any different,” Clarke argued, thinking of the intricate lines that now marked Octavia’s shoulder and the dark lines framing Indra’s eye. He nodded but didn’t offer anything further.

 

“What if he doesn’t think I’m worthy of them?” Clarke said, unease settling in her belly. After their earlier argument, she started to see that maybe she would need to put a bit more effort into learning about their culture if they were all going to make it through until the radiation hit and beyond. Maybe he did see her as a naïve child.

 

“I highly doubt he would have agreed to marry you if he didn’t think you worthy,” Kane admonished lightly. “The only person who could answer this question is not here.”

 

“And may not be after today,” she said grimly. She didn’t want to entertain the idea, but she was always a realist.

 

“Clarke,” Kane shook his head, reprimanding her gently.

 

“Have faith?” she sighed and he smiled wanly at her. “Even if he wins, you’re implying there may still be dissent since I haven’t been marked as Azgeda. The other clans may see that as weakness which means we have to know what is expected in this situation. Then I can figure out what I need to do. Are there any we trust to ask about this? I will summon Elder John, but I doubt he will have insight on what the other ambassadors think.”

 

Kane thought for a moment before saying, “Indra is the only ambassador I trust to always support Skaikru. And even that is not a guarantee. And I know that there may be tensions there currently.”

 

Clarke nodded and called for Elder John and Indra kom Trikru to be asked to attend her in her chambers urgently. Time was already running short with only a few hours left before the challenge. She sat in silence with Kane while they waited for them, both too nervous about the coming events to pretend to make small talk.

 

Clarke knew that Indra was most likely busy attending to her own matters with one of her own kru murdered. The marriage had been tense, but it seemed that Echo and her husband had started to settle affairs between themselves and had started spending more time together. The training exercise had been an attempt at making Trikru more comfortable in Azgeda company, but this recent attack may tear apart any goodwill that had been brokered even though it was perpetrated by an outsider. Clarke hoped that Indra would be willing to help considering the circumstances.

 

“Heiheda,” Indra bowed as she entered shortly after the summons. “Chancellor Kane.”

 

“Indra,” Kane greeted, standing and offering her a seat at the table.

 

“I need to know what it means to be marked as azplana,” Clarke said as soon as she was seated, not hesitating to cut to the heart of the matter or waiting for the elder. Indra moved suspicious eyes between her and Kane. She was taken aback at the question.

 

“This is a question for the king,” she said plainly, eyes wary on Clarke. “It is an Azgeda matter, not Trikru.”

 

“I know,” Clarke admitted. “But he is preparing for the challenge and I need to know where the other ambassadors stand on the matter. You are the only one I trust to be honest with me.”

 

“It is unusual for there to be a delay,” Indra said slowly, but she sat straighter when Clarke admitted her faith in her council. “Azgeda mark their royal line immediately when they take the title or children when they come of age. The fact that King Roan did not mark you doesn’t sit well with some of the more traditional clans.”

 

“What do you think about it?” she asked, watching Indra’s reaction carefully so she was able to catch the small frown and press of her lips before she spoke.

 

“I trust you will always honour our alliance and your vow to protect the people of the Coalition,” she answered carefully. It seemed a little rehearsed and not entirely honest.

 

“If you didn’t know me as well as you do, would your answer be different?” Clarke tried and Indra’s eyes flashed uncertainly. She sat quietly for a long moment thinking over her answer.

 

“I would wonder if you and Skaikru were fully committed to the alliance,” she admitted finally. “As it stands now, in the eyes of the clans, you have left yourself an exit if needed and in times like these it makes many nervous.”

 

“How many of the ambassadors do you think question Clarke’s commitment?” Kane asked and Indra’s eyes shifted to the Skaikru Chancellor.

 

“I would say about half,” she confirmed and Clarke felt a little nauseous. Only half the council believed Skaikru’s commitment. She knew now Roan’s fears that announcing the existence of another bunker may result in war instead of cooperation.

 

“So the binding and the blood oath aren’t enough?” Clarke nodded her head grimly, already knowing the answer.

 

“Being marked as queen would show that you are bound for life to honour your vows and your alliance,” Indra affirmed quietly, but there was strong emotion behind her words.

 

“He needs to be the one to do it?” Clarke asked, leaning forward.

 

“Traditionally the reigning monarch will preside over the marking of their partner,” she nodded. “It is generally a public ceremony. There will be an elder and attendants who do the actual branding as far as I am aware.”

 

“And my marks will match Roan’s?” she asked again, but Indra shook her head.

 

“I cannot speak to how marks are chosen, it is not for another kru to know,” she said firmly, topic firmly closed from discussion.

 

“Thank you, Indra,” Clarke reached for her hand, an unusual gesture that surprised the warrior queen. “I know you’re busy with your own arrangements. I appreciate that you took the time to meet with me. I am sorry about your loss.”

 

Indra nodded shortly in acknowledgement, eyes glittering. Clarke stood and walked to the door to check with Tyko if they had found Elder John.

 

“I must prepare for my husband’s challenge,” Clarke announced as Kane and Indra stood. She pretended not to notice how strange the words felt coming from her mouth or the deep frown Kane wore as she dismissed them.

 

Indra offered a small incline of her head before turning and leaving the room. Kane hesitated, as she knew he would.

 

“What are you planning to do, Clarke?” he asked, not bothering to hide his concern.

 

“What I have to for Roan and our people,” she answered, chin raised. With a long look Kane nodded and left her to her once more to her thoughts. There was much to prepare and hardly any time to do so in. She only hoped Roan would understand. And agree.

 

*~*~*

 

Elder John watched her from his seat at the table with a look of deep contemplation. He hadn’t spoken once since Clarke explained her reason behind requesting his attendance and what she planned to do.

 

“If it is acceptable to the king, I will make the preparations,” he said finally, hands folded on the table before him.

 

“The king is busy preparing to meet the challenge set before him,” Clarke countered, staring down the elder with as much authority as she could muster. “I will not trouble him with this.”

 

“But it will only be done with his blessing,” John countered, not wavering in his resolve.

 

“I know, and I am not asking you to do so without it, but I do not want anything to stand in way of his victory today,” she argued and did her best to infuse her tone with conviction. “We can make the preparations and when King Roan defeats his challenger everything will be ready for the marking. If he agrees, then we can do it with everyone still assembled.”

 

“That is acceptable reasoning, azplana,” the old man finally agreed after a moment. Clarke felt a knot of tension ease as she relaxed her stiff spine a fraction. She was finally getting somewhere. As long as Roan didn’t refuse, this may work.

 

“Can you teach me about the marks?” she asked.

 

“As azplana you will be marked around the temples, symmetrical crescents to symbolize the Dichotomy and represent your crown when you are not wearing it,” he said. “The Dichotomy represents the two seasons of Azgeda: thaw and freeze, night and day, the darkness and the light, the two sides every man, woman, and child possess in this world.”

 

“Will Roan be the one to choose the brand?” she asked softly. These were marks she would bear forever, she was wary of not having any input.

 

“No, it is for you to suggest and for him to accept. There are some to traditionally choose from, but if you wish you can suggest your own,” he answered, watching her closely. Clarke couldn’t help but feel she was being evaluated.

 

“What are the guidelines and the limitations?” she stood to retrieve a piece of charcoal and parchment from a nearby desk. Her time was running critically short and she would be marked permanently with this choice.

 

“Two matching marks, to sweep from temple to the point of your brows and the crest of your cheek,” he explained and watched as Clarke scratched away at the parchment in interest.

 

“What do you use to make the scar?” she sketched her eyes and an approximation of her face shape quickly as she thought and listened.

 

“King Roan’s were done with a prepared metal brand, as were his mother’s. His father’s were cut with a knife but that was an unusual circumstance for these specific marks. They have been done with a sword on occasion,” Elder John answered. She paused, thoughts bleeding from one to the next.

 

“So as long as it is metal and can be heated it should work?” she asked, mentally cataloguing what she may have in her possession. It seemed something she would prefer to be personal to herself, rather than to use a brand another leader may have already worn. A flash of memory surfaced from one of the booths she had perused the week before in the marketplace.

 

“If it was iron or steel, I would say so,” he affirmed. “You have something in mind, azplana?”

 

“I think so,” she said and set to sketching her idea before requesting a runner to the stall she had seen the old wind chime. She smiled when she looked down at her drawing, a crescent brand around each temple just as ceremony necessitated.

 

The next few minutes set a flurry of activity in play and she was relieved when Elder John nodded when the two pieces of metal were placed in his hands. After a quick discussion with an Azgeda smith, it was determined that they would be able to reshape them to fit around her temples precisely as indicated, and that they would safely withstand the heat of the coals.

 

She didn't have much time to think about what she was hoping to do and any potential implications. She had already bled for the people of the Coalition, but if more were required of her, she would cut open the next vein for the cause. Or maybe cauterize an open wound before it festered was a more adept analogy.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke’s hair was braided as she received detailed instructions about the marking ceremony from Elder John. He ran through each facet and emphasized to her that if this was done, her position as azplana was hers until death. When he said this, Clarke frowned. For all of the emphasis on blood bonds, it seemed there were others held in higher regard. There was more to their customs than she had realized and Clarke swore once again she would not be caught behind on Azgeda knowledge.

 

She purposefully left her face bare of makeup, though the handmaiden who had been tasked with braiding and dressing her for the challenge frowned and made to argue. Elder John stepped in with a low conversation and the girl left the room without question. He eyed her face critically before nodding, happy with her appearance. He handed her the bone coronet and she settled it on her head with a heavy sigh.

 

“Azplana,” Tyko nodded to her from the doorway. It was time to begin. She took a moment to take a deep breath and centre herself, throwing her shoulders back and letting the regal mask fall into place before she left her chambers.

 

She followed two guards as they led her through the tower of Polis and out into the arena she hadn’t been in since Roan fought Lexa. Tyko’s presence beside her was more comforting than expected as she took note of the sea of faces already in place. The place was imposing and the memories it held were both good and bad. The last challenger to the Commander had fallen and hopefully luck and skill would be on their side today as well. The future of humanity depended on it.

 

Clarke took the steps leading up to the raised platform that overlooked the perimeter of the battlefield. The ambassadors were already in place on the dais and looked on in grim anticipation. Kane stood behind the chair set out for her and she smiled briefly at him before she stepped to the edge of the platform. Roan looked up at her and she held his eyes for a long moment before turning her face to the crowd. She ran her eyes over the large crowd who were already shifting in nervous anticipation.

 

“There has been a challenge issued by Cherno kom Ingranrona kru,” she started in Azgedasleng and there was a hiss of dissent from the area where the people of Azgeda were gathered. The crowd was teeming in excitement and memories of the last battle she witnessed surged forward, leaving her stomach tied in knots.

 

“In single combat, there is but one rule,” she said and paused, swallowing thickly, the words no less terrifying than when she heard them spoken by someone else. Cherno and Roan faced each other from the ends of the arena.

 

“Someone must die today!” The bloodthirsty crowd roared and Clarke raised a hand in front of her.

 

“You may begin,” she said and dropped her hand, signaling the start of the battle and the two combatants walked back to where their attendants stood with arms in hand.

 

Roan drew his sword, and glanced over at her once more, his face already shuttered into his battle mask. She pressed her lips together and nodded, breathing in sharply through her nose as he focused on the larger man charging toward him. She hardly felt her back hit her chair as she sat down, knees watery and weak from nerves.

 

Cherno attacked fiercely and with brutal strength. Seeing them face each other, Clarke saw that he had nearly half a foot of height on Roan and the heavy musculature to compliment his size. Roan defended against each sweeping strike before ducking low and swiping at his legs. His blade made shallow contact, nicking him on the calf, but though there was a roar of pain from his opponent, it didn’t do much to slow him down.

 

Cherno was a vicious fighter. He used his size and strength to his advantage, pressing forward with an incredible intensity that left Clarke biting hard on her lip to avoid crying out when she watched Roan struggle to absorb the impact of a blow. The red-headed warrior pressed on, attacking again and again, keeping Roan on the defensive and Clarke did not know enough about combat to know if this was a good or bad strategy. Her eyes drifted briefly to Tyko who stood on alert beside her and noted the grim set of his features. She kept her eyes in the arena from that moment on.

 

Time drew on as they prowled around each other in an ancient dance. Cherno’s attacks eventually waned and the fight became a bit more even. Each warrior made small gains against the other, a few cuts and scrapes littering each contender, but no serious wounds gave advantage. Clarke grew more and more nervous as the two twisted and turned around each other, both showing signs of tiring. Cherno was larger than Roan but less agile and each man played well to their strengths in a way that spoke of years of combat experience.

 

They were well matched and suddenly a quick sweep of Cherno’s sword made contact with Roan’s thigh and Clarke gasped. She saw a twist of pain cross his face, but he used his opponent’s opening to deliver a forward thrust of his own, catching Cherno’s exposed side.

 

They drew back from each other, breathing heavily, Cherno’s flank bleeding quite profusely and he was hunched over it in pain. Clarke drew in a breath, hoping for advantage. Roan launched himself forward with a yell, his cold mask cracking with rage, returning Cherno’s earlier advance with a brutal and precise one of his own. Cherno was visibly struggling to keep up with the attack, weakened from blood loss and his earlier brutality. In a last ditch effort he used his body to slam into Roan’s side, toppling them, but lost his sword in the process.

 

The two men hit the ground together, and Clarke gripped the armrests tightly as she watched Roan shove at the larger man who had landed heavily on his torso. Sword still in hand, he made his way to his feet, a little slower than she would have liked, but he was standing. Cherno was still struggling up onto his hands and knees, a pool of blood spreading underneath him. The wound in his side had torn open and his arms shook as he strained to stay up. Roan was not one to waste an advantage and pressed the red-haired man back down into the ground and raised his sword.

 

He looked up at Clarke, and she knew she had to give him leave to end it. They were in this together, even if she wasn’t standing in the arena with him. With a nod she delivered the sentence. The traitor to the Coalition was set to die and her heart thumped hard in her chest. She knew Cherno had challenged everything they worked for, but she was still delivering a death sentence and it made guilt a home in her gut where it burned.

 

Roan’s chest heaved in exertion, a cut at his temple trickling a red river of blood down the side of his face as he pushed his blade through the base of Cherno’s skull. There was a sickening crunch as he twisted the metal, severing the spinal chord, and the king stood victorious, his shoulders dropping in releif. A cry ripped through the assembled crowd and Roan raised his eyes back to hers on the dais. She smiled shakily down at him, reaching for the crown that sat beside her and stood. She nodded at Elder John and proceeded to descend into the arena.

 

“Your fight is over, Cherno kom Ingranrona kru,” Clarke said plainly, looking down at the broken body on the ground as her stomach twisted. She turned quickly to face the king, stepping away from the fallen warrior.

 

“King Roan kom Azgeda,” she said and he kneeled before her slowly to receive his crown. He flinched as one of the points of the antlers scraped along an open cut and his muscles shook from the exertion of the fight as he stood once more. The crowd around the arena broke into more pleased cheering, whether in honor of their monarch’s victory or at the joy of witnessing bloodshed, Clarke was unsure and unwilling to examine further.

 

Elder John drew up beside her, and Roan frowned before quickly drawing the connections when he saw the two crescents attached to iron rods the old man carried. The coal fires were in place at the edge of the arena, two attendants waiting for a signal to bring the repurposed grills closer. Clarke kept her eyes firmly on his as they narrowed in speculation.

 

“You’ve done your part,” Clarke said lowly in a voice that carried no tremor of fear. “Now it’s time for me to do mine.”

 

Elder John hummed beside her, and when she met the older man’s eyes, it was to find admiration shining from them. Roan straightened, his breathing beginning to even out.

 

“You’re certain?” he asked, eyes searching her own. “This is something that you cannot take back.”

 

“Yes,” she said, noting the hush that had settled over the crowd who were watching the unfolding events curiously. She stood taller and made to take a step back to allow Roan room to address the crowd. He grabbed her hand to stop her and leaned in close.  
  
“If you do this, you remain queen of Azgeda even after we leave that bunker,” he whispered quickly. “You will belong to me even if every alliance falls apart with the opening of those doors. Even with your own people.”

 

“If you are trying to scare me off, it won’t work,” she said, placing her hand over his with her free one. If there was one thing she had learned in her short reign it was that appearances were everything. “I will do anything for all our people. For humanity to survive.”

 

He frowned at her, but pulled back a fraction. He still looked conflicted.

 

“And for you,” she added softly, letting her feelings for him bleed into her expression. “For us. To show everyone we have the strength to lead them.”

 

He nodded once and stepped away turning to address the now silent crowd. Clarke let out the breath she had been holding though new worry started itching at her skin. She tried to tell herself it was only physical pain, it would end quickly and she would heal. It was worth the cost if it assured the full faith of the Coalition.

 

“The challenge has been met and Cherno and Ingranrona kru found to be wanting,” he pointed the tip of his still dripping sword at the body on the ground before turning to look at Clarke. “Now it is time your queen to prove her worth and be marked by fire as Azgeda.”

 

The silent crowd roared to life and Clarke’s heart started beating wildly in her chest. She knew this would be excruciating and that the grounders, Azgeda in particular, looked poorly on any show of weakness. She would do her best to not cry out, but as the coals were brought closer she felt a tremor of fear run up her spine. Elder John presented Roan with her chosen brand, and she hoped he would appreciate her choice.

 

Hanging in the marketplace she had seen a wind chime that contained a series of spinning crescents made up of stars. When the chime was brought up to her chambers two of the smaller crescents fit around her temples as if fated to. There was a large hollow star that would be directly on her temple and a series of progressively smaller stars flanked the large one. After the assistance of the Azgeda smith, they had manipulated them to fit precisely with little adjustment. She would be left with two small stars at the highest point of her cheekbone, the large hollow one at her temple, a medium one directly above and below that one and two small ones following on to meet at the peak of her eyebrow. Apart from the blinding pain it may end up quite a striking mark.

 

Roan picked up one of the crescents and looked at her, a small smile lifting the corners of his eyes. He nodded once and Elder John left his side to place them in the fire. He handed his sword to Tyko before whispering instructions for the removal of Cherno’s body.

 

“Stars?” He said as he watched them being placed on the hot coals. “Only you could manage to find something like this, Wanheda.”

 

There was a low hum of excited whispering filling the arena and Clarke’s eyes sought out her own people’s. Kane sat in the ambassador’s seat for Skaikru and her mother stood beside him. She was whispering frantically, and did not look pleased when she looked into the arena.

 

She broke eye contact with her mother as Roan moved stiffly beside her, favouring his left leg, and she looked over at him worried. Running her eyes down his body she noted the array of small scrapes, none that caused her great concern apart from the wound in his leg, but he looked exhausted, his shoulders sagging a little and his hand shaking where he pressed against his ribs.

 

“Will you be fine to do this?” she asked softly, and was surprised when his rich laughter rang out in response. Elder John turned to face his king at the sound apparently as surprised as she was.

 

“She asks about me at a time like this,” he muttered to himself, and shifted back as a low stool was placed in front of them. Clarke had elected to receive both brands at once, rationalizing that if she were to pass out from the pain it would only happen once. And she doubted that she was brave enough to submit a second time after the first had been applied, remembering the pain from the wedding brand quite clearly. She would have to hold herself very still but it was only for a handful of seconds.

 

At a signal from the Elder, Roan moved into position, holding out a bloodied hand to her to help her sit. He squeezed her fingers as she settled on the stool, letting out a long breath. Elder John passed her a strip of leather to bite down on and she was not too proud to take it.

 

The coals were brought closer and she could smell the hot, acrid smoke that rose from the fires. She tried to slow her breathing and focused on the king as he stood before her. She kept her eyes firmly on his, drawing strength from his usual calm as the noise settled around them.

 

“Clarke kom Azgeda, azplana kom Azgeda, Heiheda of the Coalition, it is my duty and my honour to mark you as our own,” he said in a loud, clear voice.

 

The two branders approached the grills, the metal of her branding irons hot and red where they lay in the coals. Her eyes flickered nervously over them briefly before she slipped the strap between her teeth. Leaning her head back as Elder John had explained, she felt Roan move in behind her, giving her his own body to lean against.

 

Elder John stood over her, smoothing her hair back from her forehead and temples, muttering in a voice too low to hear. He ran cold fingers over the area that would be marked and she shivered slightly. He reached and delicately extracted the coronet from her curls, handing it to an attendant. She rested her head lightly against Roan’s firm belly, feeling the slight movement of his inhalation. Elder John backed away, but remained standing before her as he gestured for the brands to be brought forward.

 

She felt the heat of the irons as she pressed a little more firmly against Roan’s abdomen but attempted to be careful as she knew took some solid hits and she would need to examine him properly later. She met his eyes as he leaned over her and slipped his hands up to cup the sides of her face, helping to hold her head still and steady, and the smell of leather, dirt, and blood overtook the smell of hot iron.

 

“In ice we are born,” he started in Azgedasleng and she felt the approaching heat and sucked in a deep breath.

 

“In fire we rise,” he said as the brands touched her skin.

 

The blinding, burning pain seared through her like an electric charge, and she clamped down hard on the bit between her teeth. She wanted to maintain eye contact, but as soon as the brands touched her skin they closed reflexively, tears leaking out the sides. The loss of her sight and the pain heightened her awareness of the smell of burning flesh, the pull of her searing skin, and the hiss of the cooling iron. She focused on pulling in a breath, flooding her body with much needed oxygen.

 

She knew only a handful of seconds had passed, but it felt like an eternity later when the metal was removed from her face, a slight pull as some of her skin accompanied the branding iron. She whimpered quietly, but didn’t cry out. She was going to be sick. Waves of nausea rolled through her and she started seeing spots behind her still tightly closed eyelids.

 

“Breathe, Clarke,” Roan’s voice filtered through the fog of pain and nausea, and she slowly realized his thumbs were making soothing swipes along her jaw. “It’s done.”

 

She felt his hands slip down the sides of her throat and to her shoulders, pressing gently to move her forward. The movement caused a painful rush of blood to her new scars and she swallowed the bile that was threatening in her throat. She spat the leather strap out on the ground, gulping air and forcing her stomach to co-operate, but her mouth filled with saliva in anticipation. She opened her eyes, the blinding light of the day adding to the overstimulation and caused her to wobble on the low stool.

 

“Azplana Clarke Griffin, long may she reign,” Roan announced proudly as he pulled her to her feet, hands firm and strong around her own, and the crowd roared. Clarke swayed slightly, feeling lightheaded and gladly turned to leave the arena and escape the scrutiny so she could collapse for a moment until the pain finally settled. She thanked the stars for Roan’s usual stoicism that made him unlikely to make a production of things, no matter how symbolic.

 

Roan took her shaking hand and wrapped it around his elbow and led them away from the bloodied ground and the still burning coals. The crowd still roared behind them, their thirst for violence and curiosity sated. There would be celebrations in the streets of Polis tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys! You are amazing.
> 
> I have quite a busy RL week so I'll probably only post twice as I initially planned to. The next couple of chapters kind of go together so we'll see if I can get it up in a couple of days. And since I'm about to rush out of the house I will do my best to reply to all of your comments while I'm waiting at my doctors office considering how astronomically behind she tends to be...

As they entered their chamber, both king and queen of Azgeda breathed a sigh of relief. Clarke asked the guard to bring bathwater up for the king. She had already set out her medical kit on the table in anticipation of having a few fresh wounds to attend to. Her fingers itched to touch her face, but she knew that it would result in agony. Elder John had said there would be a poultice made to aid with healing delivered by the time the ceremony was completed and she saw it sitting next her bag of supplies.

 

Roan shuffled toward the bed, his limp more pronounced and a hand pressing against his thigh. The leather was split and she saw that his fingers were coated red when he pulled them away. She grabbed the poultice for her face and her suture kit, flawlessly slipping into doctor mode.

 

“Sit,” she ordered, tired and still reeling from her own wounds, but his were in desperate need of being attended to. “Can you take you pants off yourself or do you need help?”

 

Roan chuckled but it ended on a groan and Clarke suspected a bruised rib, if not a broken one from where Cherno fell on him. He should take it easy for a few days, but she knew that he would refuse to if she suggested it. He was as curious about the bunker as she was.

 

“I can’t decide if you are attempting to be seductive or if you’re trying to help,” he said, leaning down to unlace the boots, but becoming frustrated by the restriction of his jacket. Clarke scoffed and rolled her eyes.

 

“Vanity doesn’t suit you,” she admonished and was rewarded with another chuckle, setting her suture kit and the tin of poultice next to him on the fur covered bed. She pursed her lips, looking around for some material to put under his leg. The dull ache on her face slowed her mind, but she did her best to push through the pain.

 

She shrugged out of her jacket to free her arms as she retrieved the bowl of water and the cloths next to it from the table. She came up short in her search for material and turned back to find Roan’s bare back, a dark bruise blooming under his right arm. He had started in on his boots again, but his movements were sluggish.

 

“Here, let me,” she said, kneeling at his feet and batting his hands away. He didn’t protest much as she unlaced the boots and pulled them off his feet, leaving them discarded beside the bed. She looked up, finding his eyes on her, intent but a little weary.

 

“You should put the poultice the elder left you on your face,” he remarked, eyes tracing what was sure to be a bright and angry burn. “It will help with the pain.”

 

“I will after we look at your leg,” she said and stood when a knock sounded at the door. She walked to the door to admit the handmaidens and guards who came bearing heavy buckets of steaming water for the large tub that sat in the corner of their chambers. Her eyes lit on the extra material they had brought with them to serve as towels and grabbed one as she went over to pour in a mixture of herbs made to reduce inflammation and help sterilize wounds.

 

Roan was sitting straighter, watching his clansmen as they poured the water into the tub and remained strong and unyielding until the door closed again behind them. Clarke rolled her eyes, but grabbed an extra bowl to get a measure of hot water and soap from the washing area; it would do to scrub out the cut to his thigh before she sutured it. When she turned around once more, he had managed to wrestle the trousers down his legs and had kicked them off with less than his usual care.

 

“Lift up so I can slide this under your leg,” she said as she kneeled down alongside him, hissing at the deep gash that ran nearly from hip past mid-thigh. It was only a flesh wound and not overly deep, but it would bother him for a while, even after she stitched it. He complied easily and she tugged the material under and reached beside her for the bowl of hot water, scrubbing the skin around the cut clean until she couldn’t avoid the edges any longer.

 

“This may hurt a bit,” she said as she dipped the cleaning cloth back into the bowl of water that was now bright red with the king’s blood.

 

“I’ve had worse,” Roan grumbled, ever the alpha male. She snorted, but didn’t doubt it. She fell back on her training, entirely focused on ensuring the area was as sterile as possible before starting the painstaking process of stitching shut the area as best as she could. They weren’t textbook perfect stitches and it would no doubt leave an impressive scar, but it would do. She delicately ran the cloth over the area a final time before sitting back on her haunches.

 

She raised her arm to run it over her forehead in ingrained habit after feeling the small beads of sweat that had started to prickle and irritate the skin. She was shocked when Roan’s hand shot out immediately to stop the action before she touched her skin.

 

“That would be a very bad idea,” he murmured, eyes sharp and hard on hers. Only when he mentioned it did she feel the return of the burning ache that seemed worse for having ignored it. “Your turn, Clarke.”

 

She could only nod, feeling the tension of a headache building, but satisfied that the worst of Roan’s physical damage had been looked at. She could examine his ribs and torso after attending to herself. His breathing was steady and regular so she could pretty safely assume his rib wasn’t broken. Glancing around the suite, she realized she would need a mirror to see what she was doing and their suite was sorely lacking in that particular luxury.

 

“Allow me,” Roan’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked up to see him holding the pot of poultice up for her inspection. She smiled tiredly and quickly gathered her suture kit before sitting down next to him, angling her body to face him so he didn’t have to stress his torso overly much.

 

His eyes roved over her face carefully, lingering at each of her temples where she assumed most of the brand was. He studied her closely and she kept her own eyes firmly on his face, cataloguing each of his expressions. She would be a lesser woman if she didn’t admit that she was tempted to allow herself the distraction of letting her eyes roam down his body, but with him fully nude beside her while she remained dressed it felt impolite. Not that there was anything polite about wound care between friends. The thought made her smile.

 

Roan quirked a curious brow and she blushed under his scrutiny.

 

“Something amuses you?” He asked, apparently finished his inspection as he turned away to wash his hands in the bowl of clean water at his feet. She stayed staring at the wall behind him, not tempted in the least to look down and refresh her memory of the beautiful web of scars that decorated his shoulders. Nope, not her.

 

“I don’t think I have had a day this intense in a long time,” she said by way of explanation when she realized she had yet to answer his question. He grasped her chin firmly with one hand and dipped two long fingers into the pot of poultice before raising them to her face. She closed her eyes with a hiss at the first soothing contact of the pulpy mixture on her cheekbone.

 

When she opened her eyes she found him staring at her with a smug expression. She huffed but closed her eyes again as he continued his ministrations, the effects of which overrode her pride and she sighed in relief. He leaned closer, the heat from his body radiating out toward her, and Clarke felt the soft puffs of his exhaled breaths against her cheek as he concentrated on applying the poultice. She took the time to enjoy the feel of his strong fingers cradling her chin and his fingertips running soothing circles over her temples before he leaned away from her dipping his fingers in the pot to continue with the other side of her face.

 

“I will ask Tyko to prepare horses and supplies for our journey after I bathe,” he said, but she found it hard to focus as his fingers spread a cooling tingle over her burning skin. “I think it best to wait a day to leave. It will give us time to organize the council in our absence and for additional preparations.”

 

She hummed an affirmative, knowing that she would have to radio Raven to tell her of the change of plans and confirm who was coming with Monty and from Arkadia. She also needed to track down the Blake siblings and enlist their help, knowing they were both still in Polis. They needed to find someone they could trust to oversee Polis as well now with Echo gone. But maybe she could afford herself a moment of rest before she had to organize for tomorrow once again. Her face still throbbed and the stress of the day was wearing on her.

 

It took her a moment to realize that his fingers had stopped spreading the soothing poultice, but he still held her jaw firmly in place. She felt a soft tug on her bottom lip and released it from where she had been biting down. His thumb ran over the soft indentations left by her teeth, soothing the plump skin. When she opened her eyes his eyes were focused on his thumb and his pupils were dilated slightly.

 

He raised his eyes to hers when she inhaled a sharp breath, brow furrowing.

 

“Did it not help?” he asked with obvious concern.

 

“No, no it did,” she stuttered, breath shaking a bit on her exhale. “Thank you.”

 

He smiled at her, the expression softening the hard lines of his face. It was an expression she had only seen on him a handful of times and every time it took her breath away. It transformed his normally cold affect, that of someone who had seen too much in his still short life, to a warm man with beautiful blue eyes that sparkled with genuine humor and affection. The smile was fleeting as always and soon he was watching her seriously once more.

 

“Thank you. For everything you did for me and our people today,” he murmured, the look in his eyes leaving no doubt that he was genuine. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain, Clarke kom Azgeda.”

 

There was a deep tremor of pride in his voice and Clarke flushed at the unanticipated praise. She wasn’t certain she shared his belief that she sacrificed much today, but he certainly believed it. She licked her lips and his eyes tracked the movement. He glanced up at her briefly before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her lips.

 

This kiss was the polar opposite of the one before the challenge. That kiss had been forceful and full of desperate anger and fear, the roaring climax to a battle of dominance. This one was soft and exploratory. He didn’t push for an advantage; he merely caressed her lips with his own. When she opened her lips to deepen it he chased her tongue almost playfully, stroking hers gently, teasing her skillfully before pulling away. He smiled softly at her and ran his hand down her cheek before pressing his lips to her unmarked forehead and standing. Clarke would never admit it, but she may have admired him as he limped away from their bed into the waiting bath.

 

*~*~*

 

The next morning found Clarke searching for the elder of the Blake siblings in the small courtyard that housed a few small eateries in Polis. The streets the night before had been full of excitement and celebration, but Clarke had remained tucked away in her rooms, exhausted by her turbulent day. Roan had left briefly to organize their affairs for the journey south and arrange a meeting with Indra about what was to be done about her Second and Echo. He had joined her once the tasks were completed and had collapsed heavily into bed after stripping off his clothing, his body desperately in need of rest.

 

Clarke had woken up in the morning to a painful itching at her temples and had slathered the poultice on her burns desperately as quickly as possible. Roan had stirred at her movement and moved stiffly around the room as he prepared for a busy morning. He was obviously in pain, but Clarke didn't comment as she checked the stitches in his leg and bandaged it for him before he dressed. They didn't say much to each other, but went over what each had to do to prepare for the next day’s long journey.

 

Clarke had spoken to both Monty and Raven and informed them of the change in plans and Raven had decided to make the daylong trip to Arkadia to save them the trouble. They would move out first thing tomorrow morning and collect the Skaikru members around midday. Raven also intimated that some of the journey south had a risk of being impossible to pass with the rovers, so it seemed they were destined to make the whole trip on horseback.

 

Clarke cast her eyes around the tables and spotted a familiar head of dark curly hair in the corner, sitting mercifully alone.

 

“Can I talk to you for a second,” Clarke asked as she sat down beside Bellamy at one of the tables in the market.

 

She needed to get him alone, and it would have been better if Octavia was there at the same time, but it seemed that the dark haired girl was still avoiding her brother. It was the first time she had spoken to him on her own after everything that had happened, and if she was honest, she expected it to be difficult.

 

Bellamy turned to face her, dark eyes flicking up to where the fresh brands stood out as a bright red beacon indicating her position in the monarchy.

 

“Do I have a choice?” he asked gruffly, looking away with a scowl.

 

“Bellamy, please,” she said, laying a hand on his arm as she had countless times before. His muscles tightened further under her hand rather than relaxing and she felt a tightening in her chest.

 

“It’s important,” she added, whispering fiercely.

 

“As important as that?” he asked sharply, eyes once more on her face. “You didn’t tell me you’d be fucking branded like cattle for this whole affair.”

 

“I did what I had to for our people, Bellamy,” she argued, frowning. “You know I would do anything to ensure we survive.”

 

“That much is obvious, princess,” he replied. “Or is that offensive now?”

 

She sighed, frustrated that he was going to let his temper get in the way of this. There had been enough delay already. She briefly contemplated giving up and going to find Octavia instead, but she needed Bellamy with her. They had been together for everything on the ground so far. At least for the important parts. She pushed down her irritation and sadness at the current state of things between them and tried again.

 

“Raven found something,” she whispered, schooling her features and removing her hand from him. “It could be exactly what we need.”

 

Bellamy watched her closely his dark eyes conflicted and obviously unsure if he should bother listening to her. She could still see the anger and vague distrust, but there was a new light there as well. She held his eyes, open and honest in her regard of him.

 

“I need you with me for this, Bellamy,” she pressed. “This could be it.”

 

He still refused to speak, but nodded once, putting a heavy hand on her shoulder and breaking eye contact. She allowed herself a small flicker of a smile at her victory and hoped it meant that they could move past this. Become close friends once more.

 

“The talk around here is that you’re one of them now,” he said lowly, an edge to his tone she couldn’t place.

 

“I was already queen of Azgeda,” she explained. “But some of the ambassadors wanted a more traditional and formal demonstration.”

 

“So you did it for the ambassadors,” he asked an edge of disgust to his question. “Not to protect him?”

 

“I already told you,” she said. “I did what I had to do for everyone. The clans need to be united behind their leaders. For us to survive this.”

 

He scoffed harshly, draining the remainder of the liquid in his cup. “The Azgeda I spoke to said it meant you were theirs. That until today it was only temporary as part of the treaty.”

 

Clarke frowned, she had understood the significance, but hadn’t realized how far the distrust of her had reached. It only confirmed that she had done the right thing, even if that meant she was bound to Roan and Azgeda for life. There were worse things she could have done for her people and already had.

 

“Is it true?” Bellamy asked, breaking into her thoughts. “There’s no going back?”

 

“I made a promise,” Clarke said softly, and she felt her heart ache at the resignation in his face. “I will stand by it. I made my choice the day I married him. Roan has sacrificed just as much as I have.”

 

Bellamy looked at her for a long moment, before shaking his head. She knew he was pushing her away. She saw the change in the tilt of his jaw and the push of his tongue against his cheek. It hurt more than she expected it would, but they needed to make things clear between them. She thought she already had but it seemed he was still hanging on.

 

“Whatever you want, Clarke,” he said dismissively. “It’s your life.”

 

“Bellamy, don’t,” she pleaded, heart starting to break at the pain etched like scars behind his eyes. When he saw her tears they hardened into anger.

 

“Don’t what, Clarke?” his voice rose, and a few of the people around her looked over. “Tell you this is fucking idiotic?”

 

“Bellamy,” she warned scanning around them as more people looked to where they were sitting.

 

“I don’t give a fuck, Clarke,” he spat, his hands fisting on the table. “This whole thing has been an absolute circus from the start. O had to marry some guy she didn’t even know for this! So did Josh! And you’re acting like it’s all the normal way of things. And now you’ve gone and branded yourself for them? Where does all this end? Forced repopulation programs?”

 

Clarke’s eyes flickered around the area, too much attention on what was happening between the queen and her friend. Willow, an Azgeda guard who had been tasked to accompany her, moved her hand to her sword, frowning darkly at Bellamy.

 

“Calm down!” she hissed, but Bellamy just seethed at her. “What you’re saying could be seen as disloyal or worse, treasonous.”

 

“And you would, what?” he challenged, rising. “Have me executed? Now that you’ve got that authority. You could just get rid of anyone who’s standing in your way.”

 

Clarke reared back as if struck. She didn’t know what to say, shaking her head. His words cut deeply and showed such blatant disregard for all they had been through together. There was no way he believed what he accused her of, but for him to throw the words at her just to hurt her made her bones splinter with the impact of the phantom blow. But she was tired of his anger and needed to leave before the situation got any worse. She rose from the table intending to leave; maybe this had been an impossible idea from the beginning.

 

“What did Raven find?” he asked, voice low and angry. She turned and looked back at him. His whole body was tense and his eyes blazed at her.

 

“If you think you can keep your temper in check you can meet us tomorrow morning at dawn,” she answered, hoping she wouldn’t regret it. She wasn’t about to announce it with so many interested ears. She turned to leave and seek out his sister.

 

“And will he be coming too?” the question stopped her dead in her tracks, no doubt whom he was referring to.

 

“Yes,” she replied, glancing back over her shoulder. Bellamy crossed his arms over his wide chest, eyes angry and hard. “We are in this together, Bellamy. It’s time for you to grow up and realize that.”

 

She walked away without another glance back, Willow’s sword clicking softly back into its scabbard.

 

*~*~*

 

“I heard things went well with my big brother,” Octavia said in lieu of a greeting when Clarke stepped into the room. The room was a Trikru training room and she had obviously just finished a training session judging by the stretching she was doing.

 

“That happened less than thirty minutes ago, how did you hear about it?” Clarke asked, a little stunned. Octavia spun around, a wide grin on her face.

 

“I have my ways,” she replied enigmatically. “Besides, you had quite the audience, I’m sure Roan’s heard all about it by now.”

 

Clarke groaned, she knew she should have gotten him somewhere alone, but she had thought Bellamy would have listened to her. Or at least waited until they had some privacy to drag up all his issues.

 

“It didn’t go quite as planned,” she relented, sitting heavily on a bench at the side of the room. Her brands were starting to itch and her fingers longed to scratch at them. At least they had stopped hurting for the most part which was a relief.

 

“Yeah, that’s obvious,” she laughed bitterly. “He doesn’t really do calm and collected these days. Or ever.”

 

“I thought he’d at least listen,” Clarke sighed, glancing over at her friend.

 

“Right after you were branded as belonging to Azgeda and someone else forever and ever?” she scoffed, shaking her dark head. “I like the stars by the way. Nice touch.”

 

“Thanks,” Clarke replied, she knew it was a genuine compliment from the young girl. “There are more important things to worry about now.”

 

“It’s no wonder you two never made a go of it,” Octavia mumbled, frustrated. “You’re both idiots. But at least you’ve made your choice now.”

 

“My choice?” Clarke’s brows furrowed.

 

“You’re Azgeda,” Octavia said plainly, pointing to the fresh brands. “Those mean that you will die Azgeda. As their queen. Unless Roan banishes you and removes those you are bound to him and his people. There’s no getting out of this marriage now. And even my idiot brother knows that much.”

 

“Everyone keeps pointing that out,” Clarke sighed. “It’s not as if I wasn’t married before.”

 

“You were married,” Octavia said, eyeing Willow and the Trikru warriors that were in the room with them. She leaned closer and continued. “Azgeda acknowledged you as their queen for the sake of the alliance, and Roan assured everyone that the bond was enough. It wasn’t easy, but most people listened. But accepting the brand means that you give yourself completely to them. You cannot take it back and you will be Azgeda even if they break their alliance with the coalition.”

 

“I swore I would look out for the all the clans, not just Azgeda,” Clarke argued.

 

“Yeah, duh,” Octavia agreed. “And you still are responsible for them, heiheda, but now your marriage to Roan is a bit more legitimate I guess. You’ve basically said you’re not going to renege on the alliance once we’re out of the bunker. You're married now, in the 'til death do us part’ sense but quite literally. You’re his now. And I suppose he’s yours.”

 

“Right,” Clarke said. So maybe that was why Roan hadn’t asked her to mark herself. It meant the same for him. She felt a little of the victory of the day before deflate in her chest. She was still a girl after all and it hurt a little knowing that maybe she wasn’t seen as desirable.

 

“But you knew all that, right?” Octavia asked softly, eyeing Clarke’s suddenly morose disposition.

 

“How do you know so much about this?” Clarke asked, rather than answering the question, knowing that Octavia had immersed herself in Trikru very quickly.

 

“I ask a lot of questions,” the young warrior said honestly. “And I watch them, and listen to what they say when they don’t think you’re listening. Lincoln taught me that it was better to watch and learn than to act without knowledge.”

 

Clarke reached for her hand and squeezed. Octavia was right. Maybe a change of tactics was in order. And she had always been good at asking the right questions.

 

“So whose ass needs kicking now?” she asked, eyes a little weary.

 

“No one,” Clarke cleared her throat. “Raven found something and I want you to come with us.”

 

“Something?” Octavia prodded, eyes alight. “Something important?”

 

“She thinks so,” Clarke allowed a small smile to spread over her lips. “Something big.”

 

“Just tell me when and where,” Octavia said, looking out at the training room. “Should I tell Ilian?”

 

“Not yet,” Clarke said, she didn’t know if she could trust Octavia’s new husband yet, and they needed it to look like a simple mission to A.L.I.E.’s bunker. “We don’t know what it is yet, so we’re keeping it quiet. We leave at dawn tomorrow.”

 

Octavia nodded and Clarke stood to leave. She needed to reapply the poultice to help her resist scratching her face off and she still needed to talk to her mother and Kane. And she would need to be at her best before she faced her mother. The fact that she had managed to avoid her all day was a blessing.

 

“He’ll come around,” Octavia said as Clarke nodded at Willow, indicating she was ready to move on. Clarke glanced back at her friend. “Bellamy is just dealing with this. Terribly, but he loves you and he’ll get over it.”

 

Clarke nodded, not quite as convinced as she was. “I asked him to come with us.”

 

“I know,” Octavia said, reaching for her sword. Clarke turned to leave the room again but stopped when Octavia called her name.

 

“If he doesn’t behave, I’ll kick his ass for you, azplana,” she grinned wickedly and gave her a small mocking bow. Clarke laughed and felt a little lighter, happy to have at least one Blake in her corner.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone as always! Here's the next chapter for you, hope you enjoy :)

Clarke sighed as she massaged the poultice into her brands, the prickling heat lessening with each swipe of her fingers. She had found a small mirror and had balanced it precariously on a cup to have a look at her face. The marks were a deep dark red and looked angry, but they were fresh. The skin had started forming a light scab that made the stars stand out against her pale face. But she found she liked them.

 

“I’ve never taken you for vanity, Wanheda,” Roan’s voice made her jump, she hadn’t heard the door to their chambers open. The sudden movement caused her makeshift mirror stand to topple and she sighed.

 

“I was seriously thinking about ripping my face off earlier,” she said by way of answer. “I’m not sure how vain that makes me.”

 

“Depends on the reason I suppose,” he answered as he fetched a drink and sat across from her at the table. Clarke huffed a short laugh and focused on spreading the poultice on the right brand holding the mirror in front of her with her free hand.

 

“Did you speak with Bellamy and Octavia?” he asked after she finished. She looked up at him and his eyes betrayed a hint of suspicion which could only mean he’d already heard about it as Octavia said he would have.

 

“I assume you’ve already heard how it went with Bellamy,” she answered, following her instinct. If Octavia’s sources had known about the meeting, surely his had, not to mention it had happened in Willow’s company.

 

“I don’t listen to rumors,” he said after taking a drink. “I would rather hear it from a source I trust.”

 

“And you trust me?” she couldn’t help asking. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head in response. Clearly that was a stupid question.

 

“Are you always going to need reassurance?” he asked instead. She glared and he smirked back at her.

 

“It could have gone better,” she said, reaching for the bread and cheese she had grabbed before attending to her face. “He is still angry that Octavia took part in the marriages. He was less than impressed about everything that happened, but I think he’ll come tomorrow. Octavia is in, said she’d have my back if Bellamy decides to be a jerk.”

 

“Do you trust him?” Roan asked after a short silence. The question was heavy with added meaning.

 

“Yes,” Clarke answered honestly after a moment. “I do. He’s still the best marksman we have and he’s good with mechanics in a pinch. He may be angry now, but he knows what we’re doing this for. He’s always been there when we’ve needed him in the end. And where Octavia goes, Bellamy is sure to follow.”

 

Her conviction rose with every statement, and she found herself relaxing a bit. Bellamy may be angry, but he would do anything to help protect Octavia, if not everyone else. Roan was watching her closely, and she found herself wary of the scrutiny. She didn’t know where they stood now and Octavia’s words were an annoying buzz at the back of her mind.

 

“Are you disappointed?” she started, eyes following her fingers as they tore at the piece of bread in her hands.

 

“What are you asking exactly?” he countered, tone a little hesitant.

 

“That I forced your hand yesterday?” she continued, plucking up her courage but keeping her eyes averted. “That you’re stuck with me now?”

 

She closed her eyes tightly, ashamed that she felt self-conscious at a time like this. She had won a war, slaughtered hundreds of people in the name of the greater good, and defeated a malevolent AI set on destruction, but she was still an eighteen-year-old girl with a slightly fragile heart.

 

“Clarke,” his voice was soft and deep and she raised her eyes to his. “You didn’t force my hand and I am not disappointed that I am stuck with you, whatever you mean by that.”

 

Clarke sighed. She was just not used to feeling so off kilter around anyone. She hadn’t wanted another relationship after Lexa, a woman she had thought she loved deeply, but who she found herself thinking about less and less often. But even that relationship had been unbalanced and there had been a lot they didn’t know about each other. Real trust would have been hard to establish between them in the long run.

 

Time gave her perspective and she saw the parts of herself she was giving up for just a chance with her. She may have been too quick to forgive Lexa’s betrayal and give herself over to the temptation of love. There had been an element of the fire and obsession of first love that had colored her experiences with the Commander. Not to mention Finn and the whole resulting disaster between them. And she was still unsure how she would have defined her relationship with Bellamy over the last couple of months. She wasn’t lucky in relationships.

 

“I’ve had a choice in this all along,” he continued. “Just like you have.”

 

Another moment passed where Clarke didn’t know how to fill the heavy silence. Her eyes flickered around the room restlessly.

 

“What makes you think I don’t enjoy your company?” he asked, eyes solemn and guarded when she met them.

 

“You’re not the easiest person to read, you know,” she countered, not having considered that he may actually enjoy spending time with her.

 

She knew his friendship was important to her, and one she could see developing in the years ahead. But he was older than her, both in years and in experience. He had lived a hard life and there was a lot she didn’t know about him and that worried her a little. Not in that she expected to learn something about him she would find abhorrent, but rather that she had trouble figuring out where he stood on more personal matters between them. She felt she knew more about the king than the man.

 

“I didn’t want to ask you to be marked as queen because you were giving up so much already,” he explained. “I didn’t know what weight you gave our alliance, but I know Skaikru do not place as much importance on blood oaths as we do. Your former chancellor didn’t stop to consider anyone but himself when he discovered the bunker under us now. Apart from you and perhaps Kane, there aren’t many of you I have faith will keep your word. If you had asked about it, I would have explained it to you.”

 

“I am not sure if I’m supposed to be flattered or offended by that,” she said, lips twisting into a wry smile.

 

“It is what it is,” he said. “I told you once that comfort has never been my strong suit.”

 

“Last time you made me feel better,” Clarke looked up at him. “I figured you were just being modest.”

 

“I am a lot of things. Modest isn’t one of them,” he said smiling softly at her. “I am also far from disappointed that you chose to be marked as you did. That you chose to support me when I needed it. When our people needed it. You never back down, and yesterday I benefitted from your tenacity and your faith. If anything, I am humbled.”

 

Clarke looked at him for a long moment. He had the same expression on his face he did when he reassured her they were doing the right thing with Luna. And the smile his face gave way to was the same one he wore when she plunged the needle into her arm. Pride.

 

“You may need to add comforting to your list virtues, your majesty,” she quipped with a smirk. His shoulders shook in quiet laughter and she popped a piece of her massacred bread in her mouth.

 

*~*~*

 

 

Clarke had asked her mother and Kane to come see her in her chambers after dinner. She had managed to accomplish as much as she had hoped over the day. She had checked in with how things were going with their supplies, spoken to Raven who would be back in Arkadia by now, and arranged timings for the following day with Monty. The Blake siblings seemed on board for the trip in the morning, even if her discussion with Bellamy had not gone as she intended. Roan had organized horses and supplies in short order for the journey tomorrow. He was currently meeting with Indra in regards to what was to be done about the recent murder of Echo and her husband.

 

There had been a funeral pyre for the two after a short ceremony this morning to honor them. As the attack happened while Echo was with Trikru there was risk it would strain the alliance between the two groups, but Roan had assured her that though he would not let her death stand un-avenged, he knew where the real blame lay. Clarke hoped things would go easily. They still needed a few trusted Azgeda warriors to accompany them and someone to remain in charge of the army at Polis while they were away.

 

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of her guests. Clarke steeled her nerves, having managed to avoid this particular confrontation as long as she possibly could have. She was surprised Abby hadn’t tried to beat down their door before now.

 

“Clarke!” her mother burst into the room as soon as the doors were opened. She rushed up to her daughter, eyes flickering over her face.

 

“Mom,” Clarke greeted a little wary. She could admit to herself she was a bit nervous about this particular discussion with Abby.

 

“Of all the idiotic decisions you could make!” Abby started. “This isn’t even sanitary, Clarke! Think of the infection risk. We don’t have enough antibiotic ointment left for you to use on this often enough to make sure it won’t fester.”

 

“It’s fine, mom,” Clarke tried assuring her. “I have a herbal poultice that has been working well and I know how to take care of it. But thank you for pointing it out, I never would have considered it.”

 

“Now is not the time to be smart, Clarke,” Abby said derisively, before handing over a small bag. “I brought bandages, some antibiotic paste and some burn gel. The little we can spare. You should be keeping those covered.”

 

“That would defeat the purpose,” Clarke tried but her mom just glared at her. “And it is not the Azgeda way.”

 

“You are not Azgeda,” Abby spat and Clarke thanked the stars that no one apart from Kane was in the room to hear that particular comment.

 

“I think my husband and our people would see things a bit differently,” Clarke said, trying to keep the irritation out of her tone. Knowing she wouldn’t be getting anywhere with her for the time being, she turned to greet Kane.

 

“Clarke,” he acknowledged. “That was quite the afternoon.”

 

“That’s what you say?” Abby asked flabbergasted. “’That was quite the afternoon?’ After a barbaric way of proving his rule, the king of Azgeda brands my daughter and you say ‘it’s quite the afternoon’?”

 

Clarke tried to suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth. The look that flickered across Kane’s features clearly indicated this was not the first time the matter had been discussed between the couple. He shook his head at Abby before looking once more to Clarke. Abby seethed but said nothing.

 

“It was quite the afternoon,” the blonde agreed if only to provoke her mother just a little bit. “But Raven think she’s found something. A very big something.”

 

“I gathered there was more to your trip tomorrow than checking on her progress,” Marcus acknowledged, he looked at her expectantly.

 

“She thinks she’s found a bunker,” Clarke said, excitement coloring her tone. “The one intended for the President and his people.”

 

“A presidential bunker?” Marcus said and sat at the table. “That would be a very big something. How many does Raven think it will hold?”

 

“She thinks there may be three all together,” Clarke said, looking between the two adults. “Five thousand if they’re all in tact.”

 

“Five thousand?” Marcus echoed in shock. Clarke nodded, unable to contain her smile. Even Abby’s expression had softened a fraction in hope and Clarke breathed a little easier.

 

Until the door to the room opened to admit a sore and weary king. He moved stiffly and slowly, his body would be on it’s last bit of available strength. He had been quiet since this morning save a handful of conversations. Clarke had always been unsure of how close his relationship with Echo was. She had been primarily Nia’s trusted spy but there was an air of sorrow around him now that hadn’t been there before the funeral pyre.

 

“Chancellor Kane, Healer Griffin” Roan acknowledged, eyeing the couple, before un-strapping the sword around his middle. Marcus nodded while Abby glared in reply, earning her a look from the Chancellor.

 

“How did it go?” Clarke asked him anxiously, eyeing his leg as he walked slowly to the table. He was moving stiffly, attempting not to put too much weight on it.

 

“Indra wants to take responsibility for Echo’s death since it was on their land while they were accompanied by her warriors,” he said as he sat heavily, extending his wounded leg out before him.

 

“Is that not a good thing?” Clarke asked, moving closer to him and pulling out a chair. She pointed at his leg and the chair in turn, eyebrows raised in expectation. He seemed determined to ignore her shifting to straighten his leg in front of him instead.

 

“It is interesting,” he acknowledged. “But it means she can be trusted to uphold the peace here while we are away. I have given her leave to kill any of Cherno’s people on sight, but she agreed that it would be an unwise move to seek out retribution at this time.”

 

“You want to leave Indra in charge?” Clarke asked, and kneeled down and lifted his leg herself onto the chair. Roan scowled but complied, eyeing her mother who stood behind Kane still glaring at him.

 

“No,” he said. “But it means she will assist in policing Polis while we are away. I am leaving Otto in charge of Azgeda, I guaranteed him and his sons a place in the bunker if he leads them well.”

 

“Alright,” Clarke said, and looked back over to her mother. “We should be gone less than a week. Raven thought it would take a couple of days to reach the bunker, and if it is there we will need a day to go through it.”

 

“Who is going with you?” Kane asked.

 

“I spoke to Bellamy and Octavia,” Clarke explained. “Monty, Miller and Raven are all waiting at Arkadia for us. Then Tyko, Willow, and Saugua will come from Azgeda.”

 

“Raven will not be able to ride that far,” Abby interjected and turned her eyes to Roan. “Neither should you.”

 

“I have ridden with worse injuries,” Roan said by way of acknowledgment and Abby shook her head.

 

“Yes, we have all seen just what kind of injuries you learn to live with,” she spat venomously and Clarke sighed.   
  
“Mom,” the blonde started, not wanting her mother saying something offensive when they were no longer alone.

 

“Clarke made the decision to take the Azgeda mark herself,” Roan remarked voice a low rumble.

 

“I’m sure she did,” Abby said, crossing her arms. “That’s how she came up with the idea all by herself and managed to have it organized the same afternoon some rival warlord decided to challenge you.”

 

“Roan didn’t even tell me about them,” Clarke said, standing tall, having had enough of her mother’s misdirected anger. “I found out about them on my own and worked out precisely what the Coalition required of me. I knew what I was doing. And knowing what you know about what is happening, I’d really appreciate if you would stand by me rather than fight me at every turn.”

 

“I’m not fighting you, Clarke,” Abby insisted. “I’m standing up for you. I’m your mother, I just want to protect you!”

 

“Like you protected me when you drugged me and sent me to the ground?” Clarke challenged. It was an old argument, but it still held merit, especially in the current circumstances. “Even you must see that your protection of me has been intermittent at the best of times. You didn’t know if we would survive once the dropship doors opened.”

 

“We had reason enough to hope. If anyone could, it would be you,” Abby said, but a little of her bravado had fled. Clarke could see the pain that was etched around her eyes.

 

“Maybe,” Clarke said. “But I don’t think you can argue you are protecting me when we are all in this situation partially because of your choices. You chose to tell Jaha about dad. You chose to send me to solitary so I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about the Ark. You chose to put me on the list of kids going to the ground.”

 

“You didn’t find the bunker here in Polis,” the blonde continued. “But you hid it from me until the last possible second and that was only to assure me that one person would be saved when we had made a promise to a whole people. You turned your back on the alliance I had fought so hard to make, that we both risked our lives for. If you had just given me a small measure of trust, things would have been different.”

 

Abby was silent as she watched her daughter, and Clarke felt the words bubbling away inside of her, desperately clawing their way up her throat and out. She needed to say this. She needed her mother to understand that she wasn’t a child that needed her mother’s somewhat intermittent protection any longer. Clarke was the one who was doing everything in her power to protect their people, her mother included. She squared her shoulders and continued, words burning like fire from the very heart of her.

 

“I love you, Mom and I’m not saying I’m not thankful I’m here,” Clarke continued. “I am. Falling out of that empty void and onto the ground is one of the best things that ever happened to me. I’m not proud of every decision I’ve made that has led me to where I am today. But all of this? This alliance, this marriage, and standing by the people I have promised I would support? Doing what was necessary to win their trust and prove that I stand up for the people I believe in? I am proud of that decision. I am proud to be marked as Azgeda because it shows everyone that I stand by the promises I have made to the Coalition, to our people, and to my friends.”

 

The room was silent after Clarke’s passionate declaration and she felt a little of the strength leave her spine. She felt Kane’s eyes on her, but remained focused on her mother. She carried the weight of her words in her bones and they settled her firmly on the ground. She was elated and exhausted all at once and she felt her few years hanging off her shoulders like battered wings. She had been fighting so hard to fly but so much was set to work against her. Maybe she truly belonged on the ground.

 

Abby was silent for a long moment. She watched her daughter and her eyes glittered with emotion before she nodded shakily. Clarke hoped she had finally gotten through to her and she didn’t relax until Abby sat down shakily next to Marcus who immediately reached for her hand.

 

Clarke turned and perched onto the edge of the chair she had set out for Roan, watchful that she didn’t knock into his leg as she sat. She glanced over at him and froze as she met his eyes. The look he gave her made her whole body flush hot, his pale blue eyes burning into her, causing gooseflesh to rise on her arms and a tingle to run down her spine. The small smirk that grew over his lips as she stared at him made him look positively predatory.

 

“What provisions have you made for the council in your absence?” Kane asked, breaking the heavy atmosphere in the room.

 

“I had hoped to ask your assistance in that matter,” Roan said, breaking their eye contact at last to look at the Skaikru Chancellor.

 

“My assistance?” Marcus asked, surprised.

 

“I need someone I trust to keep track of what is discussed between the ambassadors,” the king explained. “My army and Indra will keep the peace, but I need to hear of any possible dissent.”

 

“And you trust me to do that?” Kane’s eyes were sharp and shifted between Clarke and the king.

 

“Not entirely,” he acknowledged with a shake of his dark head. “But Clarke does.”

 

Both Abby and Kane looked taken aback at the simple explanation and looked at the young girl. She had been surprised as well, but did her best to hide it as a burst of warmth spread through her chest at his admission.

 

“There should only be one full assembly while we are away and Elder John will preside in our place,” Roan continued as if he was oblivious to the looks shared between the Skaikru members, but Clarke knew better. “I have ensured everything else will run smoothly. Otto will lead the army well. He is a skilled warrior and has a head for strategy and is not inclined to get involved with the politics of Polis. I have known him longer than most and he is one of the few I can trust to keep his word without question.”

 

“We will be bringing radios with us,” Clarke said. “Raven thinks they will stay in range. You should be able to hail us if there is anything you need.”

 

“Alright,” Kane agreed, watching her closely. He wore his heart on his sleeve at times like these, and she saw the pride that shimmered in the depths of his eyes and it warmed her knowing she had someone’s faith.

 

She felt the tell-tale burning itch start in her temples once more and suddenly desperately wanted to get to bed and sleep. It was going to be a long few days ahead, even more so if they didn’t find anything. She allowed a little of her tiredness to show in her eyes as she looked once more to her mother.

 

“You should get some rest, Clarke,” Abby said, seeing the look in her daughter’s eyes. “You have a long day tomorrow.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” she acknowledged, standing. Abby approached her slowly, eyes flickering over the brands.

 

“I know you have your special poultice,” she said, shooting a derisive look down at Roan who returned the look placidly. “But use the supplies I gave you. Especially since you can’t clean them out as often when you’re travelling. There should be enough for his leg as well.”

 

Clarke wrapped her arms around her mother, who sighed heavily against her hair.

 

“I love you, mom,” she whispered and felt her mother’s embrace tighten before she leaned back.

 

“I love you too, Clarke,” she said, eyes a little misty. “And I am sorry for the pain I have caused you in the past. I am very proud of the woman you’ve become. Your father would have been as well.”

 

Clarke blinked quickly as her eyes prickled and accepted a short, but firm hug from Marcus. He didn’t say anything else, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

 

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said as he let her go. He looked over her shoulder to where Roan had once more gotten to his feet to stand behind Clarke.

 

“I will keep you informed,” Kane said and looked to Abby after shaking the king’s hand. Abby moved closer to him and Clarke was happy knowing her mother had found someone who could support her as she needed.

 

The couple said quiet goodbyes and Clarke watched until the door clicked shut behind them, before letting out a sigh of relief, sagging a bit. She really needed a rest. She turned toward the back of the room, mind set on getting ready for bed, leaving the few preparations she had left for the morning. She started as she turned straight into Roan’s chest, having forgotten she’d heard him stand up.

 

He caught her by the upper arms and she raised surprised eyes to his. He looked back at her with the same predatory intensity he had moments earlier and she didn’t have more than a second to pull in a breath before his lips had crashed down on hers. His lips were firm and warm and moved slowly over her own. He released her upper arms to thread one around her middle, pulling her flush against him as he cupped her cheek gently.

 

His tongue darted out and ran against the seam of her lips and she parted hers to allow him entry. Once she did, the kiss took on a whole new level of intensity. It was as demanding as their first but more gentle. Urgent with an unspoken need rather than angry and possessive, but it bruised her lips all the same. It felt like he was trying to memorize the feel of her mouth and at the same time leave a part of himself with her. It left her dizzy and breathless. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more he pulled away, breath panting softly against her lips.

 

He pulled her close, pressing her pelvis hard against his own, before leaning his forehead against hers carefully. His eyes were closed, his lashes dark against his high cheekbones and Clarke couldn’t look away. She felt the long, lean strength of his body against her, his breaths making his chest move against hers, and the fingers wrapped around her jaw tightened fractionally before they loosened and pulled away. When he opened his eyes she was close enough to make out the dark indigo ring around his irises, the pale grey and sky-blue bursts that made up the color. His pupils were wide and the air between them sparked with energy.

 

His eyes dropped briefly before he pulled away, dropping a soft kiss on her lips before disentangling himself from her, walking toward his weapons chest without an explanation. Clarke found herself shaking and wondered what had caused the passionate reaction. She stood rooted to the spot, running a finger over her bruised lips before glancing over to where Roan was pulling out something for the journey tomorrow. She frowned, but walked over to the washbasin to clean up as she had originally intended.

 

They didn’t speak again as they settled in for the night, each lost in their own thoughts. But Clarke shifted closer to the centre of the large bed and reached out hesitant fingertips to skim against his and smiled into the dark when she felt his hook around her own.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, and I will continue to say it, thank you so much for your kind words! They really make my day and keep my faith in this little story :) 
> 
> I've had a hell of week which seems to be spilling over into next week with major headaches so I'll do my best to update a couple of times next week too. 
> 
> That said... Roadtrip time! Sort of, on horseback ;) 
> 
> The story that Clarke tells is a summary (my retelling of it is horrible, seriously, I tried, but go and read it, it's not long) of the book The Last of the Dragons by Edith Nesbit. It's out of copyright these days (it was published in 1925, if you do read it, that's pretty impressive in my opinion!) so you can actually read it for free if you're inclined. It's a book my dad read to me as a kid and I always loved the story and thought it fit quite nicely. 
> 
> The names I used for Roan's story is a nod to Norse mythology and the two chariots that are said to be chased by Loki's wolves Skoll and Hati before Ragnarok. I'm a bit of a mythology nerd so if you look into character names that I've come up with they do tend to have some relevance. Like Cherno ;) 
> 
> Right. So that's all I have to point out. If you have any questions, ask me on tumblr. This chapter is kind of a lead on to the next one where a bit more happens, but either way enjoy!

 

The small group of riders entered Arkadia to many curious looks. They all knew about the alliance with Azgeda and the Coalition, but rarely had much to do with any of them so when four heavily armed warriors rode in accompanied by Clarke and the Blake siblings it caused a bit of a stir. And when they saw Clarke the buzz of excited gossip spread like wildfire around the camp.

 

Clarke dismounted, handing her reigns to Willow as she went to find Raven. Monty waved at her as he ran out to meet the riders a pack slung over one shoulder. He did a double take as she passed him, but thankfully didn’t say anything.

 

“You better not damage any of that or I’ll break your legs, Miller,” Clarke heard as she rounded the corner to what was left of the mechanics bay. She smiled as she entered, Raven scowling at a grinning Miller.

 

“You could never catch me, peg leg,” he teased and picked up two of the bags on the ground. He looked up as Clarke approached the widening of his eyes the only indication that she looked any different.

 

“Clarke,” he said with a little grin. He was a man of few words to say the least.

 

“Hey,” she smiled in return. “They’re gathered out front watering the horses and packing the last supplies. I’ve been sent in to retrieve the brains of our operation.”

 

He nodded, and quickly turned to walk out of the room. Clarke looked over to where her brunette friend was stuffing a few bits of tech into a small backpack. Her brace had been tied to the back, it would only hinder her while riding, but she had put on a rather elaborate leather one in its place.

 

“’Bout time you guys showed up,” Raven said as she turned to Clarke. “We were about to leave without you.”

 

“Without horses, food, and weapons?” Clarke smiled at her friend. “Sounds like a solid strategy.”

 

“That’s new,” Raven said, eyebrows raised as she looked closely at Clarke, the red burns bright against her pale skin. Clarke’s hair had been braided to keep her hair away from the marks for which she was thankful. Bellamy scoffed as he overheard her, grabbing a bag from behind Raven who frowned.

 

“It suits you,” Raven added, eyes inspecting them closely after frowning at Bellamy’s retreating back. “Must have hurt like a bitch.”

 

Clarke laughed and hugged her friend. Raven had a way to cut through the tension unlike anyone else.

 

“What do you need us to bring?” she asked, as she hefted a bag over her shoulder. “Have you found a way in if it’s intact?”

 

“I think so,” Raven smiled, grabbing a tablet from the desk behind her. “It’s not perfect, but I’ve run through all the coding simulations I could think of on this, and if not, it should have enough processing power to do something. I can’t do anything until I see what’s actually in front of me. Brute force would be the worst possible option, we may not have time to do the required repairs.”

 

“Azplana,” Willow interrupted and Clarke nodded for her to continue. “The horses have been rotated and watered and the extra supplies have been distributed. We are ready to leave.”

 

“Thank you, Willow,” Clarke said, handing her the last of the bags before nodding at her in dismissal.

 

“This whole deal is still ridiculously surreal,” Raven commented, pointing between Clarke and the retreating back of the warrior. “You can issue commands and shit and people actually have to do what you say.”

 

“Rae-“ Clarke admonished with a small smile as they turned to leave the compound.

 

“And you have a crown now, don’t you?” her friend continued, refusing to relent. “I bet you sit on that big-ass throne in the room too?”

 

“Raven!” she cut off and her friend burst out laughing.

 

“Relax,” she cajoled, threading an arm through Clarke’s. “But you know I can’t kneel or curtsey right? Got the bum leg and all that. You better not hold it against me.”

 

Clarke groaned and chose to ignore her friend for the rest of the day. A task that proved to be exceptionally difficult especially since teasing Clarke seemed to be her friend’s chosen strategy to ignore the pain riding caused her leg.

 

*~*~*

 

 

“The cave has been secured,” Tyko said with a nod to Roan as Clarke grabbed her medical kit, determined to force the king into letting her look at how his stitches had held up during the long ride. The way he was favoring his left leg worried her.

 

The small group of riders busied themselves setting up camp near the mouth of a cave. They would need the ability to get undercover if they encountered black rain. They had ridden hard all day and covered more ground than they had expected much to Clarke’s delight. But the long day had worn on her; her face was itching and her skin stretched uncomfortably. She didn’t dare say a word about it however. Not only did she want to avoid another argument with Bellamy, but she saw the strain on Raven’s face as the afternoon wore on, her friend was struggling but had pushed through the pain for the sake of the group.

 

She reached up for her bedroll and the roll of furs that would make her pallet for the night. She spotted Roan setting his gear down near the mouth of the cave and walked over to him, leaving her own things in a disorganized heap near his. He looked up at her and raised a brow.

 

“Oh, I’ll get to it later,” she said, kneeling down to rummage through her supplies. “Not all of us have a deeply engrained routine when camping out like some people. I’m sure I’ll survive even if I don’t face exactly the right direction. I want to have a look at your leg.”

 

She missed the look of amusement that flickered over his face at her tone as she extracted a package of fresh bandaging to replace the one currently protecting the wound.

 

“It can wait,” he said firmly and didn’t relent at her glare, busing himself with laying out his bedroll and extracting the required supplies for the evening. He set out everything with meticulous precision, not deferring from his routine.

 

“I need to make sure you haven’t torn any stitches,” she insisted, folding her arms over her chest. “We have been riding all day, you need fresh bandages at the least.”

 

“And you need to look after your own,” he countered, eyes flickering over her face, straightening and producing a spare jar of poultice out of his jacket pocket.

 

“If you let me look at your leg I’ll put that on,” she gestured at her jar. “It’s a fair trade.”

 

“Insufferable woman,” Roan muttered and Tyko chuckled beside them, having overheard the exchange. Roan glared menacingly at the man while Clarke smiled widely which caused an impressive look of panic to cross his face. Not everyone in Ice Nation was as skilled in putting on the mask of indifference it seemed. His amber eyes flickered between the two uncertainly and Clarke kept her eyes soft and open hoping to cajole him to take her side.

 

“I would think it best do as the azplana desires, sire,” Tyko finally said. It seemed he had the nerve to interject and Clarke laughed out loud while Roan looked annoyed. She was learning more about the Azgeda every day and Tyko was a pleasant surprise.

 

“Seriously, dude, Clarke will just pester you until you give in anyways,” Raven added, limping up beside the pair and adding her two cents, not caring remotely that she was dismissing the most powerful person in the small group. She sat down with a happy sigh, massaging her hip, obviously in pain.

 

“I’ll have a look at your leg too, Rae,” Clarke said, laying out her bedroll to make room. “You’ve been pushing yourself harder than you should have all day.” Raven looked over at Roan, eyebrow raised in a non-verbal ‘See what I mean?’

 

“Yes ma’am,” Raven agreed, leaning back against a large boulder, trying her best to look like she wasn’t in excruciating pain. Clarke frowned and promised to ensure they would rest a bit more tomorrow since they had made such good progress today. She picked up her roll of furs and propped it between the rock and her friend’s back, Raven’s eyes closing at the added comfort. She asked Tyko to boil some water, giving him a handful of dried white willow bark to make some tea to give Raven a bit of relief from the pain.

 

“Come on,” Clarke said, moving back over to Roan. “We’ve already run out of daylight.”

 

Roan cast his eyes at the people working around him, none paying much mind, busy preparing the evening meal after a long day of hard riding. When his shoulders dropped a fraction she knew she’d get her way without any more complaint. She pulled out the small bottle of potent moonshine she had brought as an antiseptic and sterilizer and a spare length of soft cloth as Roan sat beside her, sliding his pants down to expose the wound. She lit her small flashlight and handed it to him to hold.

 

The stitches she had put in the previous day were holding well, the area around them was puckered and a little pink, but more from the rub of clothing over the bandage rather than the beginnings of infection. She soaked the cloth in alcohol and ran it slowly down the jagged length, letting the area dry a little before applying a thin layer of antibiotic cream and layering soft material as an absorbent pad over it. She hooked her fingers under his knee and tugged gently to get him to lift it and wrapped some long strips of material around it to keep it in place. She wished she still had access to gauze and field dressings the way they had before the Ark was destroyed, but the job wasn’t half bad.

 

“It looks good,” she said without looking up as she packed up her supplies. “But try not to walk any more on it tonight. You should be resting it for a couple of days at least, though I know you never would.”

 

“I’m not sure I have had such care taken of a simple flesh wound before,” Roan chuckled as he stood to pull his pants back up, intent on ignoring her request he stay still when there were still horses to look after and a perimeter to patrol. He waved the jar under her nose and Clarke smiled down at it softly.

 

“Well there’s no sense in risking sepsis when we’ve got a whole nuclear apocalypse to stop,” she quipped up at him before stood up, brushing the dirt from her knees.

 

“I’m not sure if I’m thankful you’re a healer or if I should worry,” he returned with the same good humor, twisting open the jar before setting it in her hand. He reached out a hand to grasp her chin firmly and she realized he intended to apply the poultice himself once again.

 

“Terrified,” Raven murmured. “You should definitely be terrified. The shit she knows about anatomy is frightening. She used to teach us exactly what to use and where to stab someone to make sure they would bleed out quickly. Or not, if you wanted to make them suffer. She’d hold lessons in what she called ‘self-defense’, but I always thought ‘how to murder’ was more appropriate.”

 

Clarke’s cheeks warmed in a flush, as Roan’s smile grew positively feral with Raven’s revelation. For a clan renowned for their mercilessness it was probably an asset but she felt the need to explain herself.

 

“We were in hostile territory and being attacked,” she started primly, but she doubted the look of absolute delight would leave his face. “We were kids. Everyone needed to know how to protect themselves.”

 

“You would have done well growing up in Azgeda,” he said in a low rumble, doubtlessly a high compliment even though it didn’t feel like one. “We value such ruthlessness in our women.”

 

“I’m not ruthless,” Clarke said, trying to pull her face out of his hands, but he tightened his fingers to hold her in place, concentrating once more on massaging in the poultice.

 

“You can be,” Raven piped up, a little too amused at having a reason to dig at Clarke.

 

“If you don’t stop, Rae-“ she muttered, closing her eyes in an attempt to block out the face of her laughing husband.

 

“You’ll what?” Roan goaded. “Demonstrate your knowledge? I’m sure my warriors would appreciate further advantage.”

 

“I hate both of you,” Clarke groused, and both Roan and Raven laughed as she petulantly grabbed the lid of the jar and turned back to her supplies. She ignored the warm burning in her belly that his chuckle had evoked and focused instead on her irritation at being ganged up on. She didn’t even bother to object when Roan’s steps indicated he was leaving and definitely not resting as she instructed.

 

“You love me,” Raven said, opening one eye to peer at her, a grin on her face. “I’m the greatest person you have ever met. And if we find this bunker, I will be the savior of mankind. I think that earns me the right to get a few shots in. Besides, he’s funny.”

 

“Funny?” Clarke asked, pulling the fur out from behind her friend to serve as a pillow as she scooted down so Clarke could massage her lower back and leg. She produced another jar of cream the elder had given her that was meant to act as a muscle relaxant and topical pain reliever. She motioned for Raven to shift her pants down to expose her hips and lower back, which she did a little reluctantly, eyeing the jar in Clarke’s hands.

 

“Yeah, he calls you on your shit,” she explained, hissing as Clarke found a particularly sore spot. “And he laughed at my incredible jokes so you know he’s got a sense of humor.”

 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Clarke said a little grumpily, and fell silent as she focused on helping ease some of Raven’s pain. There wasn’t much she could do to help, it was mainly referred pain from nerve damage, but her muscles often seized and she couldn’t wear her brace on horseback so the muscles that didn’t work well to begin with had to push even harder. The cream seemed to work as Raven relaxed into her hands progressively and her hisses of pain turned to sighs of relief. As she worked, the darkness became absolute around them and the fire started to warm the group and soon bowls of steaming stew were passed around.

 

They all ate heartily and mainly in silence. Raven, Monty, Octavia, and Clarke kept up a soft conversation on one end, and the Azgeda warriors did much the same. They had assigned two people on at a time for watch, and with their numbers it would result in most getting nearly a full night’s rest.

 

Everyone sat around the fire as the stars started winking down at them from the sky, blanketing them in darkness. They were happy but alert, still wary of each other. Clarke sat between Octavia and Raven, while Bellamy and Miller sat on Octavia’s other side. Monty sat closest to the Azgeda warriors apparently at ease in everyone’s company much to Clarke’s delight.

 

Octavia, warmed by the fire and happily on another adventure, butted a shoulder against Clarke’s.

 

“Tell us a story,” she said, a playful smirk on her beautiful face. “A really exciting one. With dragons.”

 

“Dragons?” she asked, eyes flicking over to Bellamy who stared into the fire. He had made a point of ignoring her today, which had been easier than dealing with his outright anger.

 

“Yeah, something epic,” she prodded gently. “I’m still too hyped up to sleep.”

 

“But Bellamy’s better at this,” she tried to evade, earning her a glare from the dark haired young man. He looked at her briefly and stood.

 

“I’ve got first watch, O,” he said gruffly and moved away from the group.

 

“And you’re still a dick,” she called after him, obviously annoyed. Clarke looked over to Azgeda and saw a few smiles among the men. She shifted her eyes over to Roan only to find him watching Bellamy’s retreating back with a frown.

 

“Come on, Clarke,” Raven coaxed. “You still tell the best ones. Tell us a story, please?” she tilted her head the side with a mock pout.

 

“Please, please, please,” Octavia added, eyes sparkling again in laughter. “Or is it too much to ask of you now, your highness?”

 

“You know they were for the kids, right?” she said, keeping her eyes on her friends, feeling the prickling sensation that meant all eyes were on her.

 

“So what? There’s nothing better than a good story around the fire,” Raven argued. “I bet everyone would like to hear one. Who knows, it may be one they still tell on earth?”

 

Clarke looked up and saw mild interest from Willow and Tyko, who seemed content and relaxed, though alert. Maybe she should just tell one of the fairy tales she had had memorized since childhood when her father would read to her every night without fail. It would be short enough but still hopefully get Octavia off her back.

 

“You share one of your stories,” Roan said, and her eyes met his. “And I will tell you one of ours. A fair trade.”

 

“See, told you he’s funny,” Raven murmured with a laugh so only Clarke could hear.

 

“Alright,” she sighed, embarrassed at the idea of telling such childish stories to hardened warriors.

 

“Once upon a time,” Clarke began while Raven and Octavia cheered, causing her to smile at the two.

 

She settled in and told the story about the princess and the last dragon, a favourite of hers. It was a story about a princess who didn't understand why she had to be rescued by a prince when she was perfectly capable of rescuing herself.

 

When she came of age, she was told to marry a Prince whose head was filled with philosophy and science rather than bravado and bravery. The princess devised a plan to rescue herself and with the help of the clever prince the two set out to find the fearsome dragon.

 

But the poor creature had hidden himself away, having been assumed to be destructive though he was truly kind and gentle. He spent his days hiding in his cave, dreading the day he was supposed to play his role and steal a princess. He didn’t want to eat the princess but that was who he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to do. And he had resigned himself into hiding rather than face his fate.

 

Until the kind princess and her prince, who no more wanted to slay the dragon than he wanted to eat the princess, found a way to live together. They assured him that they all wanted the same thing in life, to live in peace and harmony. And with promises and offers of friendship they brought the dragon down from the mountain and into the valley of their kingdom.

 

Together they built a world where the dragon became a member of the kingdom instead of a relic of monstrosity. He became integral to their daily life and beloved by the people of the kingdom. The prince and his brave princess became known throughout the land for their kindness and compassion and lived out their long lives teaching their people that you could write your own destiny if you only tried hard enough.

 

“And they lived happily ever after,” the girls chorused together and laughed.

 

Clarke had gotten so wrapped up in telling the story she had forgotten where she was until she looked around the fire and met Roan’s eyes. They were dark and focused only on her and she didn’t know what to make of how he looked at her. She ducked her head as her cheeks burned hot, and though she wished she could, it couldn't be blamed on the heat of the campfire.

 

“A fine story, azplana,” Tyko complimented warmly, smiling widely at her. “One I had not heard before. Thank you for sharing it with us.”

 

“It was nothing,” she smiled in return, accepting a bottle from Monty. Her mouth felt a little dryer from the recitation, and the eyes watching her so intently did nothing to help.

 

“Fair is fair,” Roan remarked and her eyes met his. “I will tell you one that we tell the little ones at home during the winter months.”

 

Octavia sat forward in obvious delight; she was always a sucker for a good story, absorbing information with an impressive appetite.

 

“It was in back in the empty times, when winter reigned and days were short and often not seen at all,” Roan began, voice deep and already lilting into a rhythm. He had a voice made for telling stories around a campfire and Clarke found herself spellbound.

 

“There lived a small clan deep in the woods of the frozen land. They lived a hard life, there was little to eat and the world was bitterly cold. The leader of the clan worked hard to provide for his people. He led hunting parties, he led searches for places to farm, and he gathered insects and dug into the ground, searching for a way to feed his people. They huddled together at night around the fire, depending on their clan for survival.

 

“On the coldest night of the year, the coldest of any in memory, his daughter was born. Her mother struggled for many long hours and succumbed only moments after holding the newborn girl. She was small and frail and pale like the starlight that greeted her. She grew in the cold, desolate land surrounded by her struggling people. The child born on a bitter night was the opposite of the world around her. Where the world was cold and harsh, she was warm and gentle. She laughed and sang and brought light to the world around her and was deeply loved by her father and her people.

 

“As she grew into adulthood her generosity and kindness grew as she did. As each year brought less to her people, she gave more. When there was too little food to divide amongst them, she went without. When it was time to bring another child screaming into the world, she would be there, easing the way for both mother and child. She loved without reserve and was deeply loved by all.

 

“One night a stranger came to the clan. He wore furs as black as night, his eyes burned cold as the stars above, and beside him walked two wolves, larger than any man had seen before. The one on his right was pale, his eyes as light and cutting as the lightning in the sky. The one on his left as black as pitch with eyes that burned like fire in the night. The Stranger approached and begged reprieve from his journey across the frozen lands.

 

“The leader of the clan was wary of the Stranger and the wolves he brought with him. The people of the clan were fearful and did not want to offer him reprieve, fearing the two great beasts most of all. But the leader’s daughter, the starlight child, welcomed the stranger happily and brought him to their camp and sat him by their fire. She did as she always did and gave her portion of the meager meal to the Stranger, and chose to go without. She warmed his gloves by the fire, dried his boots, and told him stories of such delight that even the cold and fearsome stranger laughed and smiled.

 

‘Have you something to offer my companions?’ the Stranger asked the young woman.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ she replied. ‘We have nothing to offer your companions, we have trouble enough feeding our own and I have given you all we have to spare.’

 

“The Stranger nodded and the wolves watched the girl with hungry eyes.

 

‘If you offer yourself,’ he said after a moment by the warm fire. ‘I will see that the sun is restored to the land and your people will be hungry and fear the cold no more.’  


‘If I offer myself to your companions?’ the girl asked the Stranger who nodded.

 

‘Your life for your people,’ he promised and the wolves licked their lips in anticipation.

 

‘I cannot take you at your word,’ she said. ‘You offer no proof that I will sacrifice myself for nothing.’

 

“The Stranger smiled at the young woman and whistled. The great white wolf loped toward him. As the Stranger ran a large hand down the flank of the great beast a warm breeze blew through the village and the sky lightened for the first time in months.

 

‘This is Sol,’ the Stranger said. ‘He will bring the morning, and his brother Mani will bring the night. Light needs Dark as surely as Dark needs Light. Without both balance is lost as it is in this land and nothing but death will reign.’

 

As the Stranger continued to stroke the white wolf the sky continued to lighten and the air warmed around them. No longer were the children shivering around the fire and the bitter winds had died away to nothing.

 

‘And if I refuse?’ the young woman asked, fearing retribution from the Stranger who had proven his power.

 

‘Then nothing changes,’ he answered plainly and stopped stroking the great beast and the chill returned to the air as the sky darkened once more.

 

‘Then I will give myself so my people will live,’ she answered without fear or hesitation. The Stranger smiled and her clan rose against her, telling her that she could not sacrifice herself for their sake. She was the best of them, the warmest and the kindest of them. If she gave her life for them, they would forget their kindness and their warmth. Her father begged her on his knees to refuse the Stranger. They would find a way to feed their people, find a place where winter couldn’t touch them and where darkness gave way to light.

 

“But the starlight child would not be swayed. She kissed each child and embraced her father assuring all that her life for theirs was an honor for her to give. What was one life offered for many? She gave herself so her people would live and as the wolves consumed her, the Stranger rose and addressed her clan.

 

‘With the gift of your own light, I give you back the Day and Night,’ he said as the wolves joined him once again, finally satisfied. ‘Always remember that where there is light there must be darkness, where there is day there must be night, where there is fire there must be ice. Two parts to every whole. Never forget the balance or the sacrifice on this day.’

 

“And with those words the Stranger walked away, back into the darkness from where he came, two wolves beside him. As he faded from sight the sun rose in the distance and the first warm breeze of spring blew across the desolate land. Balance was restored and to this day we honour the duality of man and land to celebrate the sacrifice the starlight child made so life would continue in these lands.”

 

“Wow,” Raven said with a sigh when he finished. “So story hour is a go every night now, right?”

 

Clarke joined in the laughter that rang warmly out around her. It felt nice, this moment in time where there was hope and firelight. The story Roan had told resonated deeply with her, and she remembered Elder John using similar words to describe the reason behind the matching crescents. She looked idly around the fire, before settling back on Roan. His eyes were glittering in the firelight and she got the distinct impression that he had told the story just for her.

 

The group settled down shortly after, making their way over to where they had laid down their bedding, trusting their friends to keep watch over them while they slept. Clarke stared up at the stars that glittered coldly in the sky and hoped that they would not be disappointed tomorrow.

 

*~*~*

 

They arrived at the location Raven discovered a few hours after midday. There had been a growing sense of anticipation within the group of riders since their last break for a midday meal. Tyko had asked if anyone needed a break a couple of hours later, but no one wanted to delay the inevitable. Clarke rode at the front of the group, alongside Tyko and Roan. They spotted the overgrown series of low buildings only when they were nearly upon them.

 

“This has got to be it,” Clarke said, leading her horse to one side, looking for a place to tie up the herd. If they hadn’t been searching for the specific location, it would have looked like any other series of ruins they had been passing for the last hour.

 

“Yeah,” Raven agreed, eyes on the tablet she had pulled out to get a more precise idea of where they were. “I’d wager the way in would be right through there.” She pointed to a gap in the buildings, one wall completely eroded, dark green foliage covering what used to be a doorway.

 

“Miller, O, scout ahead,” Bellamy ordered from behind her and Clarke turned her head toward him with a frown. When he met her gaze his eyes dared her to challenge him, she sighed and relented. She was too nervous to pick a fight.

 

She dismounted and tied her horse to one of the trees in the area, before turning to help Raven dismount. Her leg meant that she needed help to both mount and dismount the horse every time, but when she turned it was to find Tyko already lifting the mechanic off with ease. There was a shy smile on Raven’s face that Clarke hadn't seen in a long time and she hurriedly averted her eyes.

 

“Alright, let’s find this thing,” Raven grinned as she limped toward Clarke, pausing to fit her brace back on her leg. “I need all the gear in the black bag.”

 

“Got it,” Clarke agreed and went to retrieve it while Raven slowly pushed ahead. She was un-strapping the supplies when she felt someone behind her. She tensed for a moment before a familiar hand reached around her to pull hard and loosen the stubborn strap.

 

“My mother would have had you whipped for allowing your subordinates to give commands,” Roan said and she frowned deeply, focused on her task.

 

She wondered if he was trying to tell her something having noted how closely the king had been watching Bellamy throughout the journey. She knew he didn't agree with Nia’s method of rule but maybe he held some of her ideologies closer to his heart than Clarke would have liked. She tensed again, nervous about what he would follow the statement with.

 

“Luckily, we disagreed on many things,” he continued slipping the last strap off the black bag Raven needed. She looked over her shoulder to find him watching her, a glitter of humor in his expression.

 

“Lead the way,” he indicated with a nod of his head as he pulled his sword from its scabbard. She looked over to the direction her friends had started and followed quickly as she slung the bag over her shoulder.

 

They found an old concrete staircase that led underground, and by the way Raven’s eyes lit up, it seemed the most likely way. She struggled down the staircase but Clarke was quick to offer her an arm to lean on. The stairs led to a series of dark hallways and they made quick use of the flashlights they had brought with them. Saugua and Tyko fell behind, minding their backs in case someone was watching. Clarke took comfort in Roan’s presence beside her as the air grew colder and the ambient light seeped away into darkness.

 

“There!” Octavia’s voice rang out and when the rest caught up they found her in front of a large circular door that looked a lot like the seal to a vault. There was an old panel in the wall next to it and Raven quickly made her way over. Clarke stayed back eyes darting around the area, nervous at the pitch-black darkness that could conceal any number of unknown dangers. Her fingers clutched her flashlight tightly and her free hand searched for the hilt of her knife.

 

“Okay, who loves you baby?” Raven murmured as she raised the panel covering a series of keys. There was a faint glow and a few flashing lights which caused the spark of hope in Clarke’s chest to roar into flame.

 

“Oh, you beautiful primitive beast!” Raven exclaimed and the small group surged forward, picking up on her excitement as she read the readout from her tablet, Monty quickly coming up beside her. “IT grid is still online. As long as we can get inside, it means that there is still an operational power source.”

 

Clarke glanced to her left as Roan came up beside her, his features tight with nervous anticipation. She knew he understood less of the intricacies of technology, but he rarely asked questions, preferring to wait and observe and trust in Skaikru’s knowledge. Her nervous fingers left her knife to grab his forearm and squeezed as she looked back at where Raven and Monty worked.

 

“There’s only an AES-128 bit code,” Monty said amazed, shaking his head. “That’s not even funny.”

 

“I know, right?” Raven said, smirk on full display. “Time to get out the old biclique attacks we played with as kids. We’ve got this.”

 

A few minutes later there was a loud beep and the two techies high-fived as Raven plugged in a series of numbers. A grating metal roar filled the concrete hallway and the group readied their various weapons. They had no idea what they would find inside the bunker, but by the looks of the surroundings, there hadn’t been any activity in the area for a long time.

 

Lights flickered to life and the world was washed in icy white as they entered the bunker, eyes everywhere. Clarke blinked into the bright light, eyes burning as they adjusted. She felt Willow press in closer to her right, protecting her other flank as they made their way inside.

 

“Hello?” Monty called out, and Raven smacked him hard on the chest.

 

“You’re announcing our presence you complete idiot,” she hissed.

 

“If there is anyone in here they will already know we’re here,” the young man reasoned with a shrug, eyes flicking around the hallway, searching for any sign of life. The inside was completely silent with the exception of the faint hum of the electric lighting.

 

The first room they came across was a security control room. It contained a large bank of screens, and when they flickered on after a few taps on the attached computer system, they showed images of empty rooms all around the bunker. There were what appeared to be storerooms filled with boxes, a large kitchen and several bunkrooms with folded parcels of what appeared to be sheets and pillows. There were no people in this place. If there were, they were doing a great job hiding.

 

“Monty, go close the door. We have the code, and the interior has a bypass system, we won't be sealing ourselves in,” Raven instructed as she took a seat at a large computer terminal, the machine whirring to life as she tapped a few keys.

 

“Go search every room,” Roan said to the Azgeda guards who nodded and filed out immediately. They could watch them move cautiously through the hallways on the monitors, but there was nothing and no one inside. Miller and Bellamy followed their example went out to secure the area.

 

“This is-“ Raven started, hesitating as she quickly processed the information on the screen. “This place has everything, Clarke. Fully equipped med bay with a stocked pharmacy and lab, canteen, water refinery with it’s own well, hydroponics like we had on farm station, vehicle and mechanics bay, they even have more rovers. This is the fucking jackpot.”

 

Clarke could feel tears welling in her eyes, overwhelmed by their discovery. She kept her eyes glued on the screens around her, watching as their people moved from room to room. There appeared to be multiple floors and multiple floors meant it could house a lot of people.

 

“How many will it hold?” Roan asked.

 

“I’d guess at least two and a half thousand,” she answered. “That’s what it’s provisioned for. Twenty-five hundred people to survive one hundred years or more. We may be able to rework some of the systems to hold more, but it will be a tighter fit. A lot of the food and medicine won’t be usable, but once we have the foundation, we can grow food in here like we did in space. I’ll be able to tell you more about it once I get through this data, but it’s definitely workable. There’s a water source, a massive CO2 scrubber, and a hydro-generator so as long as they are working this will work.”

 

“What about the other two bunkers?” Clarke asked, leaning forward to try and read the output.

 

“I don’t know,” she answered, searching through files. “I can’t just plug this all into my brain directly, I need time to go through the info, but if this is here, it’s likely the other two are as well. There is a communication network set up with video links. I just need time.”

 

“Then take it,” Clarke said, watching as Monty came back into the control room. “Door secured?”

 

He nodded, a small grin on his face as he joined Raven in front of the computer screen. Octavia glanced in from where she was standing guard outside the door, but it seemed more and more likely that they wouldn’t need protection from anything inside. Clarke felt the breath leave her body in a great sigh and the tears that had been threatening spilled over, her still fresh scars burning as the tracked down her cheeks.

 

They were safe.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone. As always. You're all amazing and I love hearing from you.
> 
> I'm hoping I will update in a few days. A big week ahead, and a big weekend, but I will do my best to get the next chapter out by Friday if I can.

 

After ascertaining the bunker was completely empty and seeing to the horses and supplies left outside, the bunker was explored from top to bottom. It spanned six levels and was comprised of living quarters, common areas including a canteen, school, gymnasium, a large medical facility with a fully equipped laboratory attached to it, a mechanics bay with several solar powered vehicles and a large farming set-up. It was more than they had expected and had a library filled with books and journals and what appeared to be a veritable trove of digital files from the world Before.

 

The small group found themselves in the canteen, seated at a couple of the tables a few hours later. Outside it would be well past dark, but the bunker was too tempting to allow it to remain unexplored. Everyone was excited by the discovery and Tyko was asking questions about how everything worked at every opportunity. He was currently sitting with Bellamy and Miller who were busy trying to answer his seemingly endless questions about how the rovers worked. Clarke bit back a grin at the confounded expressions her fellow Skaikru wore as they tried to keep up with his open enthusiasm.

 

“You’ll never guess what we found!” Octavia’s excited voice sing-songed as she ducked her head around the door that led to the food preparation and storage area. They had found dehydrated army issued ration packs which, though unappetizing, were apparently still edible. “WILL SURVIVE NUCLEAR ATTACK” was printed in bold letters across the top much to Clarke’s amusement.

 

“Ta-dah!” the younger Blake exclaimed as she came around the corner bearing a large tray of steaming mugs. They had opted against trying any of the food in lieu of eating the rations they had brought with them, but apparently there was more to discover. The mugs were quickly deposited before the intrigued group gathered around a few tables.

 

“Hot chocolate?” Clarke sniffed at the metal cup that was shoved in her hands. She had only had it once on the Ark. It was as a special surprise on her tenth birthday and she never forgot the smell or taste of it. Her father had squirreled away credits for the whole year in order to afford three cups of the delicious concoction.

 

“Yep!” Raven said with a wide grin, sipping delicately at the mug in her own hands as she sat down at the table with Bellamy, Miller and Tyko.

 

Clarke grinned after shooting a glance to her left to see how the Azgeda reacted. She had never come across chocolate in her time on earth and she assumed that the climate might not support the plant. From memory, it was not native to the region so it may be a new experience for them all. Roan eyed the drink a little warily, but after watching Skaikru drink it without ill effect he took a long sip.

 

Clarke closed her eyes and carefully sipped at her own mug, allowing the flavor to wash over her, bringing back memories of her father’s laughter and his easy smile. It was creamy and sharp and indescribably delicious just as it was the last time she had it. She really couldn’t help the soft moan she released in pleasure.

 

“I take it you’re enjoying it,” Roan’s wry question made her smile and look over at him. She found him smirking at her, his eyes a shade darker than usual.

 

“Best thing I’ve ever put in mouth,” she replied, not realizing her unintended innuendo until he chuckled in reply.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied low enough that only she could hear him. When she glared over at him, cheeks a little warmer than before, he laughed openly, returning to his own drink.

 

“Wow,” Raven sighed. “That was worth an illegal space-walk, stealing a spaceship, crash-landing on earth, getting shot and even getting chipped by an evil computer bitch. I’d do it all again for sure.”

 

Clarke laughed, and the group all joined in. This was a worthy celebration, but their time was short. Now that they had confirmed it’s existence, and that of two additional, smaller bunkers there was a lot of planning left to do. They would spend the night inside the bunker, Raven would get as much information from the systems as she could while Bellamy and Miller checked if they could get one of the rovers up and running.

 

“We need to leave by first light day after tomorrow,” Roan said, as if reading her thoughts. “We cannot leave Polis any longer.”

 

“I know,” Clarke agreed reluctantly. “We’ll get what we can tomorrow and bring it with us. Raven will get a lock code set up and we can leave it closed. There’s only one accessible way in at the moment.”

 

“And who will know this code?” he asked lowly. They were seated a bit further away from the rest, but it was obvious he didn’t want to be overheard. She noticed his eyes pause when they reached Bellamy and she wished she didn’t understand why Roan was reluctant to trust him.   


“Raven and Monty, obviously,” she said. “They can run the coding system. Then I guess you and I would. The less people who know it, the better for now.”

 

“I agree,” he nodded, apparently satisfied. He sipped his drink in silence while looking at their friends who were caught up in the excitement of the day. Clarke couldn't help watching him from the corner of her eye as she sipped delicately, wanting the mug to stay full forever.

 

“I am thinking of asking Tyko to be my new Second,” Roan said quietly, eyes flicking from the tall warrior to meet hers.

 

Clarke glanced over at where the sandy-haired man sat. He was smiling, something she had come to believe was unusual with Azgeda, but maybe it was just the people she had met and the circumstances they were under. Roan’s own smiles were becoming less of a rarity now that she had an opportunity to spend more time around him, especially in less life-threatening scenarios. Tyko had an honest face however, which was something that may not suit the Second in command for the king.

 

“Do you trust him?” she asked, not sure if he would take her advice on such matters. “I have only known him for a little while, but he seems very open. Not like most Azgeda.”

 

Roan’s mouth curved up on one side. “You have not met many Azgeda yet. There is a wide range of personalities as with any people.”

 

“I know,” she agreed, sipping at the dwindling chocolate in her mug. “It’s just a surprise to see it. But if my opinion matters, I like him. And I trust him.”

 

“It matters,” he said and she noticed that his eyes strayed down to his mug with a little frown of disappointment. He must be nearly finished. “Tyko has been a trusted friend as long as I remember. We grew up together.”

 

He didn't say anything further and Clarke watched the warrior a little closer, curious about his shared history with the often-reserved king. If they had grown up together he would have seen Roan before the harsher lessons from his mother had managed to carve distrust into his bones and give him the burden of never being good enough. She wondered idly if her husband had ever laughed as openly in company as Tyko did at something Miller had just said or if he had always been so afraid to show any more than a passing shade of emotion in public. But that was not the matter at hand she supposed.

 

Clarke did like Tyko and knew he was skilled in a way that only came from years of use and experience rather than practice. His strange light-brown eyes tracked the slightest suspicious movement in the markets and he was quick to grip the hilt of his sword when anyone had stepped too close in his company or that of the person he was in charge of. There was much more behind the warm humor and easy smiles and maybe that was exactly why he would make the perfect Second.

 

“We should probably stay in one of the bunk rooms,” she began, looking over at Roan. “It would be better if we’re all in one place in case anything happens over night. It’s unlikely, but I can’t help but want to be cautious.”

 

He nodded, and signaled for Tyko to come over and join them. After giving instruction to the warrior, he stood and tapped Miller on the shoulder and the two slipped away into the hallway. Bellamy looked over at Roan, eyes sharp with suspicion and Roan returned it with a hard look of his own.

 

“We should probably get some sleep,” Clarke said, a little louder than necessary so it would carry over the conversations around her. “I think it’s best we stick together in case something happens.”

 

There was a general murmur of agreement and a few tired nods from the group and soon they were all making their way to the room Tyko and Miller had picked out. It contained about twenty bunk beds, set up in a style reminiscent of army barracks and those they had seen in Mount Weather. There were smaller rooms that contained what appeared to be a few family suites further along the same corridor.

 

Clarke collapsed onto a bed after shedding her jacket and toeing off her boots. She was asleep before she truly had a chance to appreciate the pillow beneath her head or the soft mattress beneath her, even if there was a mustiness of disuse in the room.

 

*~*~*

 

The following day the small group spent exploring the bunker thoroughly. Clarke immediately prioritized the medical facilities and made quick work going through the well-stocked clinic and lab. She filled a small notebook with long lists of what she found to go over in detail later and made a mental note to ask Raven if there were any inventory lists they could take with them. She made sure that she grabbed some extra supplies to take with them back to Polis and would redress Roan’s leg properly before they left in the morning.

 

That morning Clarke had found the shower room with Octavia and Raven and the girls had shared looks of unadulterated joy. They had quickly undressed, finding bars of practical soap and bottles of old shampoo that would serve them well enough and indulged in their first hot showers since space. Clarke had laughed out loud at the noises the three had made when they stood under the spray, their moans echoing off the tiled walls in an almost pornographic fashion. They may have stayed longer than practical, but it had felt incredible to be warm and clean again.

 

Raven had shot a sly look between Octavia and Clarke as they luxuriated under the warm spray, extending the time under the water as long as possible.

 

“So, when are we going to get to the juicy gossip?” she asked and Clarke closed her eyes with a sigh. When she looked over at Octavia she found the younger girl resolutely staring ahead, face set.

 

“What gossip are you asking about?” Clarke tried and Raven chuckled.

 

“You two are impossible,” Raven shook her head as she turned to shut off the water and wrap a towel around her body. “Are you actually going to make me ask how you’re enjoying your new sleeping arrangements with a king who is a little too handsome for his own good?”

 

“I sleep just fine, thank you,” Clarke replied primly, following Raven’s example and stepping out of the water to dry off.

 

“That is so not what I was asking and you know it,” Raven rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“It’s the only answer I have,” Clarke replied honestly. “It’s not like we married for anything other than a political alliance.”

 

“Yeah, people permanently scar themselves for political alliances all the time,” Raven muttered. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, there is _something_ between you.”

 

“Rae-“ Clarke sighed, glancing over at Octavia as she joined them in the adjoining locker room. “It’s not like that.”

 

“Yet,” Raven argued firmly, turning her eyes to their dark haired friend. “And you?”

 

“Things are fine with Ilian,” Octavia replied shortly, ducking her head down to dry her hair.

 

“You two are no fun,” Raven grumbled and Clarke laughed at her pout. Octavia managed to grin at Clarke and it wasn’t long before the girls were laughing again, too happy and relaxed inside the bunker and finally clean after a long journey.

 

When the trio had emerged from the room, scrubbed pink and glowing, it was to find a very amused Nathan Miller leaning against the wall opposite the door with a wide grin on his face. He arched a brow at them when they came to a stop, guilty looks sliding over their features.

 

“Is there any water left?” he had asked them before shaking his head with a laugh and walking off, presumably to inform the others of their discovery.

 

Clarke stole a private moment to go into the bathroom facilities, a row of mirrors hanging over the sinks, to have a proper look at her face. The crescents of stars were as bright and inflamed as she expected and they stood out in stark contrast to her pale hair and skin. She turned from side to side leaning close to inspect the new marks. They were healing well and she was curious what they would look like once they had settled into similar pale scars that Roan and other Azgeda bore, though that would take a few years she knew.

 

Facing her reflection she squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. It would take a while to get used to the stars, but Raven wasn’t wrong. They suited her.

 

In the afternoon, Clarke found herself wandering down the hallway where she had found a large room that appeared to be intended as a classroom. The room next to it was a large playroom, painted with happily smiling animals and storybook characters. There had never been such bright colours in her childhood. Not in space where everything had been a utilitarian shade of grey, and it didn’t seem to exist any longer here on the ground. The war for survival didn’t allow for much colour. But this room was bright and filled her with hope. She smiled as she looked inside. They could have a future here.

 

She looked over her shoulder to see Roan walking toward her. He only had a slight catch to his pace, still favouring his good leg, but it seemed no worse for wear after the long ride. The day inside had done him good, with more opportunities to sit and rest as needed. Without his customary heavy jacket and furs, he wore only a soft blue long-sleeved shirt that clung to his shoulders and arms. He smiled softly at where she leaned against the doorframe to the playroom, and she felt a warm flood of affection for him.

 

He stopped beside her looking into the room that had made her pause, a bag of medical supplies slung over her shoulder. Her eyes strayed back to the colourful room once more, the temptation too strong.

 

“We could have children,” she said quietly, more to herself as she latched on to her previous train of thought. When she realized she had said it out loud she turned panicked eyes on her husband and saw a flash of surprise cross his features.

 

“Well, you know, not ‘we’ we, but our people _could_ have children. If they want to and they can play in here and I wasn’t implying the we to mean that you and I-“ she trailed off mortified shaking her head. When she dared to look up, Roan was grinning, biting down on his lower lip to keep his laugh in, and had crossed his arms across his chest. At least he was taking her humiliation in stride.

 

“On the Ark you had to go through all sorts of testing and you were only allowed one child per family so we could ensure our survival but not waste oxygen, that’s how it worked,” Clarke explained though she had no idea why she couldn’t just get herself to stop talking. “No one has siblings except for well Bellamy and Octavia but she was hidden under the floor for years so there’s that.”

 

“The more I hear about you Skaikru, the more intrigued I become,” he said shaking his head, eyes glittering with laughter. “And a little worried.”

 

“We’re your regular happy little delinquents,” she said with a smile that felt as awkward as it surely looked. She let out a breath hoping to clear the humiliation from her chest and burning cheeks as she carefully set the bag of supplies down on the floor.

 

She tried her best to school her features as her eyes roamed over the playroom. There were swings and a slide, small tables and chairs, and a bank of cupboards that she assumed contained whatever they had tucked away to entertain children. It was obvious this place was planned as a way to ensure survival, and to do so while still allowing people to actually live and be happy. She felt a deep stab of envy for children that never were for being given this.

 

“Was this what you had when you were children?” Roan asked, as he walked further into the room. It made for an amusing picture, the savage warrior king, scarred and battered, standing in a room full of primary colors and fake green grass.

 

“No,” she said with a chuckle. “We had things to play with, but after a couple of generations of children, they were pretty well used up. We didn’t have play equipment like this. It wouldn’t do to prioritize the happiness of children when they could be busy preparing us to teach our children to survive the earth.”

 

“Your children?” he asked absently while opening one of the cupboards to reveal methodically stacked boxes of what appeared to be games. “But they sent you down.”

 

“Yes. But it wasn’t what was supposed to happen. That is why they executed my father,” she explained, pushing away from the door unable to resist the urge to explore. “The ship was dying. We wouldn’t be able to keep producing oxygen, there was maybe three months worth left when they sent us in the shuttle.”

 

“And your father opposed sending you?” The next cupboard revealed rows of books and boxes of colourful bricks. Clarke realized that though he knew a few details about her father’s death, he had never asked about the why.

 

“No, he was the one who discovered it was dying,” she said. “He was an engineer. He told my mother and she told Jaha. They decided it was better to float him than cause panic. I happened to overhear. They couldn’t risk me rebelling and doing what he failed to do by telling everyone and I was sent into solitary confinement.”

 

“They executed him,” she finished softly. “For wanting to find a way to save everyone, or at least let them know in hope that we would find a way together.”

 

She knew she sounded bitter as she opened a cupboard with unseeing eyes. She had learned to accept and move forward from her past; it was necessary for them in order to survive now. But at times she was still very angry.

 

If her father had still been here today maybe things would be different. If he was alive maybe they would still be in space or maybe they would have found a way to safely bring the ship down – but it never did well to dwell on ifs and maybes. She knew this; it’s how she could convince herself to meet her mother’s eyes every morning and to keep loving her the way she deserved. It didn't stop the shard of ice that rubbed against the deepest recesses of her heart however.

 

“It takes exceptional courage to sacrifice for your people,” Roan’s hand was warm on her shoulder as he turned her to face him. His eyes were serious and held that same heavy look she had come to understand was admiration. “It sounds like you are quite a bit like your father. I do not doubt he would be very proud of you.”

 

“I’m not sure he’d be proud that his daughter is called The Commander of Death,” she sighed, but felt a warm pleasure spread through her at the idea of her father’s pride.

 

“Wanheda does not make you a bringer of violence, Clarke,” Roan said after a moment, frowning down at her. “The complexity is lost in language. To command death means to harness its power. To prevent death would make you as much its commander as when you conquered The Mountain.”

 

“Is that why you didn’t kill me and steal my power like Echo wanted you to?” Clarke asked, a question that had simmered in the back of her mind a long time.

 

“I didn’t take your power because I do not believe in such superstitions,” he said with a shrug. “I may not be able to define what I believe in, but I certainly know that killing someone for such reasons is nothing more than pagentry. I always knew you were more valuable to me alive than dead and you have never proved me wrong.”

 

Clarke frowned, processing what he told her. Maybe some of the lives they would save here could balance out those she had taken. Maybe there was something good left in her that was worthy of saving too.

 

“You are too hard on yourself, Clarke,” he cupped her cheek and tilted her face up to his. Her breath caught as she found herself hoping he would lean in and kiss her. She felt the heat that grew in the air, the electricity that seemed to spark and crackle between them and she swayed toward him. A crash in the doorway caused her to jump in surprise, eyes on the intruder.

 

“Raven wants to see you,” Miller said, but was watching someone else walk away. Clarke could guess who had been there with him and she felt tension build between her shoulders.

 

“We’ll be right up,” she said, pulling away from the very tempting heat of her husband. This was not the time to get confused and wrapped up in other matters. Her experiences left her wary of considering any further relationships, even if that relationship was potentially the one with the one who had sworn to always stand beside her.

 

Roan didn’t comment as she turned to shut the open cupboard door, but she froze mid-push. The shelves inside were lined with boxes of colored pencils, crayons, paint and thick sketchbooks. Her fingers tightened around the door, and she couldn’t resist a second look. As a child she had fantasized about having an endless supply of pencils and crayons to add life to her monochrome sketches that littered every available scrap of paper. What she wouldn’t have given to have just one box of the colourful little sticks.

 

“Clarke?” Roan prodded, shaking her out of her daydream.

 

“Sorry, I just – I draw, sometimes,” she explained as she closed the cupboard door carefully. “We didn’t have paint and coloured pencils on the Ark. I used to wish – it doesn’t matter. I was just caught off guard. In a dream, really. That’s all. Let’s go see what Raven’s found.”

 

She turned and walked from the room before he had a chance to reply, needing to walk away from the memories the conversation and the discovery had evoked and the almost kiss they had shared. She couldn’t afford to sort through her feelings about her enigmatic king when she had a world to save.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so at this point we're somewhere halfway through, which seems bizarre to me some days. Both because it's come around so slowly and so quickly for me. Time is funny that way. 
> 
> Anyways, I loved the comments so much on the last chapter. They had me smiling for days. You guys are hilarious and I am incredibly thankful for the support and the discussion. 
> 
> So, without further ado, on to Chapter 12. It's long, longer than most of them, but I just couldn't cut it down.

The group reluctantly left the bunker, carefully assessing their surroundings for any indication that there were other people around. Tyko and Willow fell behind to remove any of the major signs that people had recently trekked through. Clarke remained dubious about how much they could do to hide a party of their size, but she had learned to extend a measure of trust.

 

They rode hard through the day, much as they had their first day of travel away from Arkadia, but there was a different buzz of excitement in the air this time and there were several moments of happy bantering on the long ride. Setting up camp that night came easily to everyone and Clarke happily pulled out her newly acquired gauze and proper wound coverings to redress Roan’s leg. He had learned over the past few days that, just as Raven said, it was best to just give in with little complaint.

 

After redressing his leg that was healing remarkably well for how much strain it had been put under, she attended to Raven’s back, before settling down to a bowl of venison stew. Watch schedules were meted out and there was a pleasant buzz of conversation around the fire. She noticed that the groups were more evenly distributed with Willow and Saugua in discussion with Miller and Bellamy while Octavia and Monty appeared to be joking with Tyko. Her heart warmed a little, further stoking that flame of hope that had been steadily growing since the bunker door opened.

 

“The layout schematics I printed will be easy enough for Clarke to redraw and distribute. I know some of the other kru are pretty suspicious of tech or I’d offer to rig up a projector,” Clarke tuned into the conversation between Raven and Roan beside her. “I have the other locations on the grid and as long as you take at least one tablet to each place they will be able to run the GPS system and pinpoint the entry. Unlocking the entry won’t be a problem since we know what to expect this time.”

 

“And you think they’re intact?” Roan asked, eyes tracking around the fire.

 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she answered with a shrug. “I could get one of the locations to ping back, but that doesn’t mean much. It could be there and in working order, or it could be a scrap of tech running off a back-up power supply that has been blown sky-high.”

 

“And the other location? The one you couldn’t ‘ping’?” his brow furrowed over the unusual word choice and Clarke smiled.

 

“It means to send a signal to the other computer system and have in answer back,” she explained in a low voice and he looked over at her.

 

“Do all Skaikru have such extensive knowledge of technology?” he asked and Clarke shook her head.

 

“Raven is the best of the bunch,” she said and her friend winked at her. “But there are a few who know quite a lot. Monty and James are who I would recommend go as techies to one location each. Maybe bring Halo and Kora as backup in case something happens?”

 

She flicked her eyes over to Raven for her input on the last bit, and she nodded.

 

“I don’t think I’ll make another trip,” Raven agreed, rubbing at her leg. “One trip out is enough for this cowgirl. Besides, now that I’ve got a line of comms out to it, I should be able to set up a remote network to connect it with the Polis bunker. The satellites will keep for another hundred years at least so that’s not a concern, we just have to make sure we have a way for each bunker to communicate with them and we can establish a live video link.”

 

Roan hummed, and Clarke suspected he understood the intent, but maybe not the details of what Raven was talking about. She admired the way he took to technology without fear and with genuine curiosity, something that was very unusual for the Grounders. She suspected that once they were tucked away he would make an effort to learn as much as he could about the systems they would be relying on to survive and rebuild the world once they were on the surface once more.

 

“So we organize two groups to be sent out immediately,” he looked over to Clarke. “Once they return and report on what they find, we tell the council. That way we ensure an accurate number of available spaces.”

 

Clarke nodded with a yawn, the heat of the fire and her full stomach making her drowsy. It had been a long day of riding and she was set to take watch at two. If she were lucky, she would be able to get a couple of hours of sleep before then.

 

“Go rest, Wanheda,” Roan rumbled lowly beside her, butting her shoulder with his own, eyes sparkling in the firelight. She smiled softly back at him. He looked very tempting, one lock of dark hair having dislodged from his ponytail, his light eyes dark and deep in the low light. She almost forgot about the rest of the people around them, but Raven’s cough startled her back into reality, a knowing smirk on her lips.

 

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed, yawning widely again. “I’ve got to be up for watch in three hours.”

 

“Night, Clarke,” Raven smiled at her, one eyebrow raised and eyes glittering in amusement.

 

“Night, Rae,” she returned, yanking softly on her ponytail as she stood and walked to where her bedroll was laid out. She burrowed under the furs that served as her blanket and watched the stars above her until her eyelids refused to stay open. She would miss the stars she realized and sighed, idly thinking of the ones that decorated her face now. At least she would be reminded of them every time she looked at herself. She could never forget where she came from.

 

*~*~*

 

“You need to learn to fight with a sword,” Roan interrupted her musings as they rode toward Polis, the tower rising in the distance.

 

“I can hold my own,” Clarke said with a shrug. She hadn’t given much thought to learning how to fight with the weapon she had been gifted at her marriage ceremony from Trikru. It was lighter than most she had carried before, and wickedly sharp. The thought of using it terrified her.

 

“But not with your weapon,” he insisted, eyes straying down to where she wore it on her hip. It was really just an accessory for her at the moment.

 

“And you need to rest your leg,” she countered, looking over at the king with a small grin.

 

“That is not the same,” he replied, a small quirk of a smile directed at her. They seemed to be more frequent these days and the thought amused her greatly. His indifferent demeanor had started to melt away frequently hinting at the warmth that lay beneath.

 

“I can train with Octavia,” she suggested. “I’m sure she could teach me the basics.”

 

“I will teach you,” he countered firmly and held up a hand before she managed to counter. “Teaching you enough to be able to defend yourself will not put any more strain on my leg than walking.”

 

“You shouldn’t be walking,” she replied, smiling to soften the comment.

 

“Clarke,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Until we are in that bunker, there will be people who want you dead. Maybe even after. Especially once word inevitably gets out about the new bunkers.”

 

“Alright,” she agreed rolling her eyes, but was secretly pleased at the idea. She knew there was truth in the statement and she would admit she was a little worried about telling the ambassadors about the new bunker. They may need to defend it before they sealed the doors for good.

 

*~*~*

 

The first week back in Polis fell quickly into a busy routine. She had started her sword training with Roan and was making slow progress. He had stuck to the basics initially, but over the last couple of days he had moved on to more intense lessons, trying to teach her how to get out of a variety of holds should she get apprehended during a skirmish. Clarke was reluctant to push him too hard, but he seemed nonplussed by the activity. And it never failed to leave her a little warmer after so much close physical contact with him so she was reluctant to oppose the idea too much.

 

Trusted warriors had been organized and sent out to the two locations Raven had found in search of the other bunkers. They would be arriving back to report on what they found at any time, the ride there and back taking at most three days in each direction. Bellamy had joined one of the groups immediately, not pausing before repacking his gear to head back out. He had blatantly ignored her on their trip home and she had decided that it wasn’t worth attempting a conversation until he got over whatever he needed work through. She still held on to hope that they would get back to where they were before.

 

Raven had arrived in the rover along with trove of repurposed tech to install in the Polis bunker. It was a lot of work to connect it to the Presidential bunker but she was convinced it could be done in the shortening time frame. They had about a month left before the radiation would spike and the surface would become uninhabitable.

 

“Clarke!” Raven greeted with a wide smile as she limped into the suite. “It should work. I need a few people to dig in a remote connection line. It will need to be buried pretty deep to make sure it survives the storm fronts.”

 

“I’ll get right on it,” Clarke agreed. She was busy moving through the footwork Roan had shown her earlier that morning, finally feeling a little more at ease with moving with her weapon. She set her short sword aside and picked up a cup of water and drained it.

 

“Where’s your hubby?” Raven asked, looking around, apparently expecting to see both of them.

 

“Training,” Clarke indicated, inclining her head toward the balcony door. The training area was visible from outside and she saw Raven’s eyes light up. Roan had laughed and shaken his head when she asked him to take it easy, insisting his leg was nearly back to normal, but Clarke knew better.

 

“With Tyko?” she asked eagerly, making her way to the doors. “I heard Roan made him his Second.”

 

“I’m amazed that even without tech, gossip spreads like wildfire,” Clarke laughed and joined her friend on the balcony.

 

“Well, people like to talk about people,” Raven shrugged. “But it’s true?”

 

“Yep, he was branded the day after our return to Polis,” she nodded, mind touching back on the small ceremony and the small series of bars that now adorned his left cheekbone and the Azgeda handprint sigil that now sat as a stark red reminder on Tyko’s chest. The normally open man had been quiet and hadn't flinched as the brands sizzled, marking his new position.

 

They leaned against the balustrade, Clarke’s eyes finding Roan as where he faced off against the taller, sandy haired man. They moved quickly around each other, parrying and defending, circling around each other endlessly. The way they moved together showed that they had years of experience sparring together. Neither was at an advantage when both opponents knew each other so well.

 

“How is the nightblood serum coming along?” Clarke asked, trying to keep the hope from her voice. The potential treatment had been put on the backburner during the bunker hunt, but she still held some hope.

 

“Not well,” Raven acknowledged. “Becca made it in space, so we’d have to go there, as you already know. We may be able to use your marrow to start producing some more solution, but we would have no way of knowing if it would help. It’s too much risk for too little reward at this point.”

 

Clarke nodded her head, already having resigned herself to the fact that it was not the miracle cure they had hoped for. People would still have to face the initial destruction and then possibly years of contaminated food and water sources along with nuclear winter. It was not going to help.

 

“Have you talked to Bellamy since you came back?” Raven asked after a moment.

 

“No, he went on the expedition to the second bunker. He’s been doing his best to be as far away from me as possible,” Clarke replied, a little sadly.

 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Raven said. “He’s pissed he’s missed his chance.”

 

“Octavia said something similar before we left for the bunker,” Clarke mused. “But he knows I did what I had to and that I would honour that choice. I was hoping we could still be friends.”

 

“He’s in love with you, Clarke,” Raven said softly. “He won’t get over that right away. He’s been pining after you basically since the beginning and now with all this, I think it’s finally sunk in that there can be no ‘us’ between you.”

 

“There was no guarantee there ever would be, Rae,” Clarke dismissed with a frustrated shake of her head. “I love him too. I would sacrifice myself for him in a heartbeat. But, I thought he understood me. Which is why I thought he’d see why-“

 

“And he will,” Raven said, putting a hand on her shoulder after she trailed off. Clarke looked over at her friend.

 

“Look, I used to totally want you and Bellamy to stop making goo-goo eyes at each other and figure your shit out, I won’t lie,” Raven sighed as she faced Clarke. “You’ve danced around each other for so long it stopped being entertaining. But I see how you are now. You’re growing into a better version of yourself.”

 

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked, not sure if she should be offended.

 

“You and Bellamy used to bring out the best in each other. Where he was all passion and rage, you were the brains and strategy, and that worked,” she explained. “But then that shit happened with Gina and Pike and the Grounders and your whole deal with Lexa. Since then, you have been growing apart, not together. You were heading back to where you were before, but it seemed more forced this time. You’ve been holding on to each other tighter than ever, but you don’t balance each other like you used to.”

 

Clarke nodded, agreeing. She had thought a lot about where she would have been if she hadn’t married Roan over the last week. If she had kept holding on to her quasi-relationship with Bellamy. She used to believe that she would be completely lost without him, that she needed him to survive more than anything in this world. Maybe she would have sacrificed everyone else for his sake, and she knew that wasn’t healthy. They had done too much to each other and their friends that maybe the answer was to find their balance somewhere else. It was a ‘what-if’ that was better left behind them.

 

“And with Roan,” Raven continued, looking back down to the training arena. “He gives you that balance. He calls you out when you’re doing something stupid. Or when you’re stuck in your head too much. Quite often I would bet, knowing you. You show him that it’s okay to be a little softer, laugh a little, and share some of that great big burden he carries. And I think you give him hope. Sometimes he looks at you like you hung the freaking moon, but you never see it. He’s pretty careful to hide it, I think. It’s cute.”

 

“I’m not sure I’d ever describe that man as cute,” Clarke wrinkled her nose in distaste and Raven laughed. “It all feels so complicated.”

 

“That’s because you’re too busy trying to figure out what all this means and how we’re all going to survive and how the world may end if you take five minutes to just chill the fuck out,” Raven said, cuffing her on the shoulder. “You know what I would to if I were you?”

 

“I’m not sure I want to,” Clarke groaned, covering her face with her hands, as she leaned against the balcony.

 

“I would take that fine specimen of a man you get to call your husband, lock yourselves away for some ‘private strategic planning’ and discover just how the Azgeda spend all those long winter months,” she finished with a cackle as Clarke sighed. “Don’t even pretend you don’t know he’d be fucking amazing!”

 

“He would,” she admitted in a low grumble, eyes straying back to the ground. “Wouldn’t he?”

 

“It’s well past time to find out,” Raven smiled at her, bumping her shoulder affectionately. The two friends looked out to where the man in question was still sparring with Tyko, Roan’s face splitting in a grin as he laughed. They were both starting to show signs of slowing so they must have been close to finishing up. She moved away from the balcony, leaving Raven to admire Tyko’s gleaming muscles on her own.

*~*~*

 

Raven left her shortly after the conversation on the balcony. She had brought Clarke a small posy of wildflowers and pine sprigs, an odd little tradition the generally gruff mechanic thrived on. Since their somewhat reluctant initial friendship on earth, the two had discovered a mutual love for the abundant plant life all around them and often they would come back to camp with a new flower or leaf to show each other.

 

One of the flowers was an incredible shade of violet, with bright yellow stamen erupting out of the centre. There were six wide petals that gradually lightened from a deep purple at the very tips to a light shade of pale lavender in the centre. The contrast of the bright yellow was stunning. The second flower consisted of small clusters of shades of blue. Tiny little flowers climbed up the edge of a firm, pale green stalk, and she was pretty certain it was a forget-me-not, or a descendant from it. The last flower reminded her of a sunrise: bold red-orange petals opened wide as if making itself as large as it possibly could. There were beautiful spots of deep violet and black hidden within its heart. Clarke ran her fingertips over the petals and smiled softly.

 

The sprigs of pine were a rich dark green and she couldn’t resist lifting it to her nose and inhaling deeply. The sharp, rich sting of pine was one of her very first memories on earth and would always remind her of the first time she finally felt at home. She ran the soft spines through her fingers, enjoying the way the scent seemed to permeate the air around her, allowing her to languish in memories of her first experience of the sky, the water, the tall sentinels of ancient trees towering above her. She felt dappled patches of sunlight warm her face and smelled the rich earth as she allowed her memories to lead her as she closed her eyes.

 

She felt tears rise and catch in the back of her throat. In a month or less she would be deprived of this place that had shown her where she truly belonged. She would not feel the wind on her face or the rain on her skin or the grass between her toes. She wouldn’t hear the insistent hum of a thousand insects in the trees or the screeching of birds as they soared above the tops of the trees. There would be no toes dipped at the edge of an icy river and she still hadn’t had the chance to see falling snow.

 

Clarke would be condemned to a life of concrete walls, echoing hallways, and deprived of windows. There would be UV-light panels, recycled air, and water that had that constant metallic aftertaste, laced through with chlorine. It would be a life full of boxed rooms, murmured conversation, stiff metal plates and heavily regulated activity. She would be caged again, locked away from the place that had finally taught her what true freedom felt like.

 

She shuddered and felt the steady drip of her tears as she finally let go. Allowed herself a moment to give in to all the fears churning in her mind. Entrapment warred with failure for the top spot. The memory of hundreds of bodies screaming and melting in Mount Weather, the nameless faces replaced by those of her own people when the bunker failed to protect them. Emaciated bodies when they ran out of food, or their systems malfunctioned. Rows of bodies lined up ready for incineration after a particularly devastating disease. Clarke shuddered, crying silently, lost in the nightmares that flickered behind her closed lids.

 

“Remind me never to bring you flowers,” a voice rumbled, startling her out of the screams that rattled through her mind. Roan stood beside the bed frowning down at her, concern written over his features.

 

She tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled sob, and she dropped her eyes to her hands where she was still clutching the posy of flowers and pine that she had been admiring before she had given over to her fear and panic.

 

“What’s wrong, Clarke?” he asked, sitting down beside her on the bed. His hair was wet and he smelled of the crisp lye soap they had in the communal bathing chamber near the training fields. He must have bathed before coming up to seek her out.

 

“I’m scared,” she admitted, squeezing the stems hard between her fingers. “What if something goes wrong? What if the bunker doesn’t hold?”

 

“Then we die knowing we did everything we could,” he answered plainly. Not one for false words of comfort. He shifted, resting his forearms on his thighs as he leaned forward, angling his head so he could watch her.

 

“What if it does hold?” she continued in a whisper, her darker fears bubbling forward. “What if the radiation levels don’t drop? And I never get to see this again?”

 

She raised the small posy of flowers in one hand, using the other to wipe roughly at the tears on her cheeks.

 

“You will,” he said, eyes on the eclectic little mix of flora.

 

“But we will be down there for years,” she continued. “There will be no light, no fresh air. No plants outside of farm station. Everything will be so cold and empty. Lifeless. You have no idea what it's like without the sky.”

 

“You were born in space, Clarke,” Roan reminded her and she laughed bitterly. “You are strong enough to spend a few years underground.”

 

“But what if I forget?” she voiced an irrational fear, finally giving in to her need for physical touch as she leaned into him. He immediately shifted and wrapped an arm around her, straightening and moving to sit closer.

 

“You won’t,” he said, running his fingers down her arm. She turned her face further into his chest, inhaling the mixture of soap, sun and a trace of leather that she had come to associate with him. It mixed with the pine she still held clutched in her hand and she couldn’t help but feel at home.

 

“These may not be here when we come out,” she held the flowers up for his inspection. “And I don’t want to forget something so beautiful.”

 

Roan was silent, not offering any false reassurances as her tears slowed and finally stopped. He sat beside her, a solid warm comfort, stroking her arm softly as she pressed herself against his side. It wasn’t a comfortable position for her body, but the peace she drew from the simple affection was worth the pain in her back. She felt him shift and looked up to find him watching her with a soft look in his pale eyes.

 

“Give me a minute,” he said, rising from the bed and walking over to the table. Clarke frowned at his back, missing the comforting warmth of his body pressed up next to her. She watched him grab a cup and pour a measure of water into it before he turned and made his way back to the bed.

 

“For the flowers,” he said, extending the hand with the glass in it, and she stuck the posy into it. He took a step back, leaning over to place the makeshift vase of flowers on the table near the bed before resuming his seat beside her. He shifted to face her, holding her eyes with his own.

 

“I understand what you’re afraid of,” he said, a warm palm against her lower back. “But I hope you also have faith that things will work. That everything we’ve been doing here is for something.”

 

“I do,” Clarke nodded, and she truly did. As much as she was terrified that things wouldn’t work, she dreamed daily of a world in which it did.

 

“Nothing you’re worrying about is irrational,” he continued. “Apart from forgetting things so quickly, but I’ll allow for it on account of your fears. Being responsible for so many will always make your burden harder to bear and your fears heavier than most. We have some big challenges to face even after we are locked away. This will never be easy, leading them never is. But I have faith that we can do it together.”

 

Clarke watched him closely as he spoke. She knew that she shared his sentiments. That by uniting the clans they had a chance, a real chance, at surviving whatever came next. And there were already signs that the Coalition was holding and people were happy. There was a sense of peace in Polis now she had never felt before, even amongst the anticipation and fear of what was coming.

 

On a more personal level, it was starting to become obvious that Roan was the person she needed in her own life. Someone who offered her support when she was weak but didn’t dismiss her fears or give her words of false comfort to appease her. Someone who often doubted himself too, but still woke up each day and kept fighting. Fighting for the same things she was fighting so hard for.

 

“I think so too,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

 

He looked back at her, eyes soft and open with affection. He smiled at her the same way he had in the bunker before she thought he was about to kiss her. They were alone now and she found herself leaning closer in anticipation.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said as he reached a hand up, cupping her cheek, running his thumb over it to dry the last of tears that had tracked there.

 

She closed her eyes, the feel of the rough pad of his thumb against her cheek tickled and she leaned into the touch. The kiss he gave her was soft and over before she had a chance to fully appreciate it. When she opened her eyes, he was looking away, his Adams apple bobbing with a heavy swallow. He stood and turned from the bed without looking back at her.

 

She was confused, her lips still tingling from their brief contact with his. After her conversation with Raven she had thought about her friend’s suggestion in detail and realized that she was very much interested in pursuing a physical relationship with him. And she had thought that he was as well. She may not be the most experienced with reading signals, but she recognized what his long looks at her as she stretched in the morning meant and he couldn’t hide the reaction of his body during their training sessions when he demonstrated how to get out from underneath him when he had her pinned.

 

Clarke looked to where he stood gazing out the window, the muscle in his jaw ticking. She didn’t know what to make of him, and he didn’t exactly have any loquacious tendencies so she was often left guessing at what he was thinking. She stood slowly and walked over to him. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she approached.

 

“Roan,” she started softly and he turned toward her. He looked at her, eyes guarded. Clarke moved into his personal space, laying one hand on his chest, using the leverage to push onto her toes and kiss him. He was slow to respond, but his hands grasped her arms and held her in place as they explored each other. When she shifted back onto the flat of her feet once more, he let her break the kiss.

 

“What about Bellamy?” he asked, voice rough and eyes on a spot over her shoulder.

 

Clarke had never seen him quite so evasive and realized that maybe he did have feelings for her that ran a little deeper than friendship. The thought warmed her, and she pressed the hand she had over his heart more firmly onto him.

 

“There is nothing between Bellamy and I,” she said and he cocked an eyebrow in disbelief as he met her eyes. “I’ve told you that before and I promise that answer will never change. Not when I hope I may have you.”

 

She felt the steady drumming of his heart beneath her hand as he watched her for a long moment, evaluating her as he turned her words over in his head. The moment felt like it stretched forever before he finally pulled her closer, angling his head to run his cheek against her own.

 

“If we do this, Clarke,” he rumbled, mouth right next to her ear, sending delicious shivers down her spine. “You’re mine. And I don’t share what’s mine.”

 

She leaned back, meeting his pale blue eyes, the dark indigo lines that contrasted against the sky blue stood out this close. His pupils were wide and endless pools, adding to the dangerous and possessive look he held her with.

 

“I’m yours,” she whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips before they crashed down on hers as he pulled her against his chest.

 

His kiss was hard and possessive, as he moved one hand from her upper arm to bury in the curls at the back of her head. He used the grip he had to angle her just the way he wanted to, dominating the exchange and pouring all of his previously repressed desire into it. Clarke gave as good as she got, tightening her own hands on his arms hard enough to leave tiny crescents in the skin where her nails dug in. She parted her lips and reveled in him as he pushed his tongue into her mouth.

 

He started walking forward, forcing her to step backwards toward the bed and she willingly let him. Her hands smoothed up to his shoulders and down his sides to sneak under the soft material of the shirt he wore. As her fingertips lightly traced the ridges and hard planes of muscle they discovered there he groaned and pressed himself into her.

 

He broke away from her lips and dropped light kisses along her cheekbone, just under where her brand had almost healed into a pink scattering of small stars. As he nipped and sucked at the column of her throat, the hand not still tangling in her curls slid over her lower back to grab her hip and press her closer, trapping her wandering fingers between them.

 

“We are wearing entirely too many clothes for this,” Clarke whispered before moaning as Roan bit down lightly where her neck met her shoulder.

 

He straightened and made quick work of divesting her of her shirt and the plain bra she wore beneath it, eyes raking over her exposed chest. Clarke tugged eagerly at the bottom of his shirt and helped pull it over his arms, exposing his torso to her. She sighed in contentment, openly admiring him, as she had always wanted to do.

 

“See something you like?” he teased moving closer, palming her heavy breasts in his large hands, causing her to hum her agreement. Clarke reached for him, pressing her naked skin against his own, dropping a kiss onto the hollow at the base of his throat before she moved up, sucking a mark under his ear.

 

“I’d like to see more,” she said as she let her hands wander over the scars on his back and down to the top of his trousers.

 

“As you wish, my queen,” he rumbled, pulling away from her and sitting to pull off his boots before moving on to unbuttoning his fly. Clarke was not about to delay proceedings any longer now that they had finally started so she followed suit, practically tearing off her boots and socks and shimmying out of her pants and underwear.

 

When she looked up again, Roan was seated on the bed, knees open, watching her closely. He was naked, his cock already straining from his lap and begging for attention. She ran her eyes up his chest and met his eyes, licking her lips at the look in them.

 

“Come here,” he ordered, his voice rasping sinfully. It caused a shiver to move up from the base her spine, her nipples tightening in response. She moved closer, kneeling between his knees and placed her hands on his thighs. The wound on his thigh was a dark pink line now, still not fully healed, but it didn’t seem to bother him much any longer.

 

He bent forward, cupping her face in his hands and kissed her slowly. He ran his tongue over her lips, begging for entry. She granted it on a sigh, rising up to meet him, deepening the kiss as they explored each other. Her nipples rubbed lightly against his chest, each contact sending sparks down her body, and she tried to press up against him.

 

In a quick move, Roan grabbed her hips and lifted her onto his lap. At her look of surprise he smirked and turned her, rolling her over to lie on the bed. When she was laid out before him, he ran his fingertips from her throat, down through the valley of her breasts, and into the soft curls between her legs. He slipped two long fingers easily between her slick folds, smirk deepening when he felt how wet she already was.

 

She groaned as he rubbed softly at her clit, nowhere near hard enough to cause any satisfaction and she tried to raise her hips to meet his hand to increase contact. He chuckled and removed his hand from her core, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth. He sucked hard, and Clarke arched her back, using the hand she still had around his back for leverage.

 

“Be still,” he rumbled. “I plan on taking my time to enjoy you.”

 

His statement caused another deep moan from her, and she felt herself getting wetter at the thought. She let her own hands roam over his shoulders and chest, smoothing over the warm skin. He returned his attention to her breasts, his mouth busy on one while his long, strong fingers plucked at the other one. The feel of his hands, rough and worn and unmistakably male was deliciously different. Clarke had only been with Finn and one other man who left her thoroughly unsatisfied, convincing her that she was better off with women for her casual encounters.

 

Roan’s mouth switched to her other breast, and he lingered there before kissing his way down her belly. She opened her eyes to look down and found him watching her as he got closer and closer to where she desperately wanted him. He maintained eye contact as his stubble scratched deliciously over her sensitive belly and inner thighs. The look in his eyes was feline and predatory like a cat who finally had its prey in sight and knew it would be rewarded at the end of the hunt.

 

Reaching his goal, he spread her open with one hand, breaking eye contact to look down at her. She flushed in arousal at his open examination before she forgot everything else when he licked her slowly from her entry up to her clit. He circled it leisurely, keeping the strokes of his tongue light and exploratory and driving her absolutely crazy.

 

“Roan,” she complained, arching her hips up towards his mouth. His pale blue eyes met her own and he looked amusedly at her, pressing one of his free hands down on her hips, effectively trapping them on the bed.

 

“Patience, Wanheda,” he said, before returning to his explorations. She groaned as he continued to deny her the pressure she wanted and reached down to play with her own nipples, desperate for some form of stimulation.

 

Roan growled, sending delicious vibrations through her when he noticed what she was doing and she looked down at him, her eyes dark and heavy. He finally rewarded her by increasing the pressure of his tongue and driving it deep inside her. He shifted the fingers holding her open and replaced his tongue by sliding two of them inside her, curling deep into her and moved to suck hard at her clit.

 

Clarke was quickly closing in on the edge, desperately wanting to fall into oblivion when the suction stopped and she whimpered in response. Her breathing was coming in quick, rapid gasps and her legs were shaking, muscles straining for more. It had been a while since she had indulged herself, and her body was screaming for release.

 

“Please,” she whimpered. Eyes closed and head lolling back and forward as she desperately plucked at her own nipples, each hard pinch an electric shock directly connected to her clit.

 

She tried again to manipulate him with her body, thrusting up toward his mouth and those long fingers that were hitting just the right spot. He pushed her back firmly, bringing her just to the edge once more, then easing her back before she broke. Every time her hips bucked up toward him, he pulled back, the hand on her hip gripping her tight to hold her still. She was going to have finger shaped bruises in the place of his fingers in the morning.

 

“Please, Roan,” she moaned, trying her best to stay still and prevent her body from seeking its release. Her patience was rewarded and instead of pulling back when he next brought her to the edge, he covered her clit with his lips and sucked hard, tearing a scream from her as her orgasm crashed over her in long rolling waves of sensation. Her whole body felt like it was on fire and her thighs clamped down around his head keeping him in place as he eased her through the waves of pleasure.

 

With a soft kiss to her hipbone he crawled up her body, his muscles flexing and pulling taught under his tanned skin. The smile he wore was decidedly wicked and his movements reminded her of the great panthers she had fought in the forest. She was still panting in short breaths replenishing her oxygen when he bent low to steal a deep kiss.

 

“Alright?” he asked a glint in his eyes, and she felt the long hard length of him poking her lower belly as he settled down on top of her.

 

“It’s a good start,” she couldn’t resist teasing breathlessly, shifting her hips below him so his cock was nestled between her soaking folds.

 

“Good,” he rumbled in amusement and nipped at her throat. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

 

“I should hope not,” she sighed as he shifted and slid into her in one slow thrust. She felt the vibrations in her chest from his groan and clamped her muscles down firmly around him. She hadn’t been penetrated in a long time and he stretched her almost uncomfortably, but the deep satisfaction the sensation evoked quickly replaced any pinch of pain.

 

He shifted his hips back again and the slow pull was both soothing and frustrating. He continued pumping in and out of her, raising himself up on his elbows to look down at her. Clarke watched the concentration overcome his features, as he catalogued each of the sensations, gradually increasing his pace but keeping it infuriatingly slow. She found herself desperately wanting to unleash the passion and intensity she knew he buried deep inside.

 

Before he could register her movement, she hooked her leg around his good one and used their momentum to flip them over, rising above him with a smirk.

 

“I see you have been paying attention during our lessons,” he licked his lips, eyes straying down to where her breasts now hung temptingly near his mouth.

 

“You have no idea,” she said and leaned back, moaning happily as the new position pushed him deeper inside of her. She kept her eyes on his as she increased the pace, hands pushing on his pectorals as she let her hair fall down around them in a golden cloud. He didn’t object and she felt the occasional flick of his hips as she squeezed hard around him.

 

Soon Clarke was well on her way toward another orgasm so she arched her back and sat up, grabbing her breasts in her hands. Roan hummed his approval and she felt his fingers seek out her clit between them and pinch down hard as she increased her pace. It took only a few more hard thrusts before she was again shaking and breaking around him, grinding down to keep him deep inside. She opened her eyes, and found Roan’s face, tight in concentration, and moved forward.

 

His hands gripped tightly onto her hips halting her movement and she looked down at them surprised.

 

“I need a minute to control myself, Clarke,” he admitted through clenched teeth, and Clarke frowned. A sudden thought occurred to her.

 

“Oh, I can’t get pregnant,” she said with a small shake of her head as she tried to sort her hazy thoughts with him still hard and deep inside her. Roan frowned at her and she raised her right arm and pointed to the inside of it where there was a very small scar.

 

“All girls get hormone implants when we turn fifteen,” she explained. “It keeps us from producing an egg, so there’s no risk. Accidental pregnancy was practically unheard of in space.”

 

He eyed her with a little suspicion, obviously unsure about her explanation, gripping her tightly and watching her for a minute. She held still, waiting for him to be ready and comfortable with whatever course of action he wanted to take. He apparently made a decision when he moved quickly, flipping them so he was above her once more.

 

“Well, who am I to try and argue with that, my queen,“ he said and groaned before thrusting deeply into her, resting his forehead against hers.

 

Her muscles were deliciously sensitive after her second orgasm and she enjoyed the feel of his increasingly firm movements without the strain toward completion. She ran her hands up his strong back, her fingers pausing to explore the raised scars that spanned his shoulders. She longed to take the time to sketch them and hoped he would allow her to once they were safely tucked away.

 

Roan gripped her hip tight with one hand as he slammed hard into her, drawing a startled gasp from her as he hit his pelvis against her clit, an unexpected spark of arousal growing in her once more. She angled her hips to encourage the contact and she felt him shift his face against her, rubbing his cheek against her own, grabbing onto her earlobe with his teeth.

 

He continued his nearly brutal pace and started telling her just how many ways he had imagined taking her, finally letting go of his careful control. His husky voice was lower than normal and the tone that usually caused a shiver of delight in everyday conversation became a delicious compliment to the response his body was eliciting in her. Once again she was racing toward orgasm and she let her body go, taking the pleasure he offered her.

 

When the first gentle wave of pleasure crashed over her, she bit down on his shoulder, unable to contain her cry as her inner walls clamped down on him. Roan thrust deeply and groaned out his own climax, arms shaking as he balanced himself above her. He was breathing heavily as he slipped out and huffed out a sigh as he collapsed down beside her, pulling her flush against his side.

 

Clarke placed a hand on his chest over his still racing heart as she slowed her own breathing. She felt one of his hands run the length of her body, the rough scratch of his fingers leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. He reached beside them, throwing one of the heavy furs over their bodies to keep out the chill of the evening, and Clarke smiled, closing her eyes and letting the insistent tug of satisfied sleep pull her under.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully that was worth the wait 
> 
> *hides*


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well they finally got together :) I've loved everyone's reactions, so thank you so much for letting me know what you thought. 
> 
> As I said at the very beginning once they start 'enjoying each other's company' it was hard to keep these two crazy kids apart. So you've been warned. Not that I blame either one of them. 
> 
> So enjoy the next part. It's another long chapter. The three that follow it are making me want to tear my hair out at the moment, but I'll sort it out shortly. It's mainly because I can't seem to split them up properly and one rebellious little OC who is being a bit of a jerk. Writer problems, sorry. There are definitely some big things starting to brew in the background now that the deathwave is getting closer.

Clarke burrowed further into the warm furs surrounding her, stretching her sore muscles. She glanced over to her bedside table at where the small posy of flowers sat in a stray beam of light. She closed her eyes and thought back to the previous evening.

 

Clarke had woken up, still pillowed on Roan’s shoulder a while later, his breathing soft and even. She had indulged herself and run a hand down the smooth, warm ridges of his torso, interrupted by the occasional scar, evidence of a hard fought life. She paused to lightly trace the most recent cauterized wound, high on his left pectoral, a stunning reminder of what he was willing to risk for his people to have a chance to live and of how much they owed each other.

 

She shifted, rubbing her thigh absently over his, feeling the slight catch of his barely healed thigh wound. At the realization that their recent activities may have done some real damage she looked up to find Roan’s eyes still closed. She flicked up the corner of the furs covering her and his leg, shivering in the suddenly cool air. She scooted down beside his thigh, doing her best to inspect the rough pink scar, looking for any evidence that there had been any tearing deep inside the muscle.

 

“I certainly hope that you have something more entertaining on your mind than checking on my leg,” Roan’s voice startled her, scratchy and rougher than usual.

 

Clarke grinned, running her fingers down the length of the pink line, reassured everything was holding nicely before she slid her hand up the inside of the same thigh, finding him quite thoroughly awake.

 

“I’ll have you know I take wound care very seriously. Maybe I should show you how thorough my investigations are,” she teased as she moved to settle between his legs and proceeded to catalogue each and every ridge of his anatomy until he was quite thoroughly unable to complain.

 

“Sleep well?” a rough palm smoothed over her side as she turned to look over her shoulder, Roan’s eyes glinting at her, lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

 

“Can’t complain,” Clarke replied, turning to face him, a little sore, but not entirely opposed to another round with the king.

 

“We have to meet with the ambassadors in an hour,” he reminded her as she slid closer, peering out at the soft sunlight streaming through the window. “Possibly less.”

 

“I thought that as king and queen we make our own schedule,” she grinned playfully, running a hand down the side of his cheek. This version of Roan when he was relaxed and open, smiling softly at her was one she could decidedly get used to. He was exposed and vulnerable and Clarke didn’t resist dropping a soft kiss on his lips before sitting up and stretching.

 

He laughed behind her, and she looked over one shoulder, her hair in wild disarray around her.

 

“Be that as it may,” he admitted quietly, eyes burning hotly at her. “Both search parties should be back today. We have a lot to do.”

 

The hand he ran down her spine, a new and exciting demonstration of casual affection, softened the statement. She took a moment to admire him as he lay back against the bed before he smiled enigmatically at her. He sat up and dropped a kiss to her shoulder.

 

“I have something for you,” he said and she looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“That is some pretty thin innuendo if you’re trying to be seductive. Especially after telling me we don’t have time,” she said with a smile and he shook his head with a chuckle before rising from the bed. He walked naked over to his weapon’s chest and Clarke happily enjoyed the view as he crouched down to retrieve a leather wrapped parcel.

 

“I had planned on giving this to you sooner but we haven’t had much time,” he said as he sat down next to her, dropping the square of leather in her lap. She knew they had been busy since they returned from the bunker.

 

Roan and Tyko had been busy strategizing in preparation for moving supplies to the Presidential bunker most afternoons, wanting to be fully prepared when they presented their findings to the ambassadors in an attempt to streamline the process. Until they knew the status of the other bunkers he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone else about the potential which left the two men to deal with the majority of the planning with occasional input from Raven. Clarke had been to Arkadia to see her mother and discuss what could potentially be done about training enough Skaikru to have sufficient medical knowledge to support four potential bunker locations. Preparation was key and Clarke knew Roan worried about potential complications of announcing further bunker locations.

 

“Open it,” he prodded when she was still lost in her thoughts.

 

Clarke smiled and focused on the package in her lap. Pulling apart the sides of leather that she knew were generally used to keep the blades of various knives and swords from rubbing against each other, she gasped.

 

In her lap were a thick sketchpad and a box of colored pencils, obviously taken during their initial exploration trip when they found the bunker. She didn’t say anything as she reached hesitant fingers out toward the bright box. Running her fingers along the surface, feeling the pencils shift softly through the open portion of the cardboard, her heart thumped hard behind her sternum.

 

“I can’t believe you took these,” she whispered, looking up at him.

 

“You have a real gratitude problem, you know that,” he teased, words he said long ago in anger reminding her sharply of their journey to this point. “Just say thank you.”

 

“Thank you, Roan,” she said, smiling at him, her fingers clutching the gifts tightly, as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

 

“You’ll never forget, Clarke,” he said, eyes serious as he cupped her chin, thumb rubbing absently on her jaw. “But maybe this will help reassure you.”

 

Clarke smiled softly at him, turning her body and sliding onto his lap to give him a proper kiss. He responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around her tight. She pulled back when she needed to catch her breath and he groaned.

 

“We really don’t have time for this, Clarke,” he said in a strained tone, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against hers. She nodded against him and reluctantly slid off his lap, unable to resist dropping a kiss on his collarbone.

 

“Some would say you missed a perfect romantic opportunity not giving these to me yesterday when I was crying and wishing I had taken some myself,” she teased as she ran her fingers over the colourful box.

 

“You needed real support, Clarke,” he smiled at her but his eyes were serious. “Not a box of coloured sticks to distract yourself with.”

 

“They’re more than just coloured sticks to me, Roan,” she said softly and his eyes crinkled at the corners with a genuine smile.

 

“I know,” he said and caught her lips in a warm kiss.

 

She leaned into it, trying to put all the emotions she couldn’t name into it to express how grateful she was at his thoughtfulness. She wished they had time for her to truly show him how grateful she was in the most satisfying way she could think of for them both, but she broke the kiss reluctantly.

 

“At least we have something to look forward to tonight after a long day,” she said, trying to will her pulse to slow down. He glared playfully at her, scrubbing a hand over his face and standing to stretch. Clarke tried to get her mind back on the matter at hand but seeing him before her in all his naked glory stretching with that feline grace that he naturally possessed made it hard to focus. She looked away and grasped onto the first thought that occurred to her.

 

“Raven wants to be there when they report back,” Clarke said, giving back into temptation as she watched him walk over to where the washbasin was set up. The man had no shame, but she wasn’t about to argue with him.

 

“She told me she wants their information right away for the connection to the Polis bunker. She gave them something to run that she wanted the information from,” he paused searching for a word. “Diagnostics?”

 

“Probably,” Clarke hummed in agreement, grabbing a long loose shirt to cover herself with as she went to request hot water be brought up for her. She knew from experience the water in the basin was ice cold and she wanted a chance to wash properly for a day sure to be taxing.

 

As they settled into their usual morning routines, Clarke realized that there had been a shift in their relationship. There was a deeper intimacy, and she felt a little shy, blushing slightly when she was caught watching Roan as he dressed, something she had done covertly before. She felt as young as she was when he grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her in for a hard kiss, a smile curling the corners of his lips before he left the room. She was left with riot of butterflies madly fluttering in her belly and a warm tingle in her heart. She felt like a girl with a crush rather than a queen who had spent most of the previous night mapping the planes of her king’s body.

 

*~*~*

 

The third bunker was destroyed.

 

Clarke couldn’t help but feel deeply disappointed with the news and she could see it reflected in the faces around them. The third bunker would have housed another thousand people, it was the smallest of the three, but it was still a thousand lives they couldn’t save. She felt the realization slam into her like a physical blow, leaving a sharp pain radiating out behind her sternum and down the nerves of her arm to her fingertips.

 

“You did well,” Roan broke the silence that had settled after the report. “We thank you for your efforts.”

 

The Azgeda members were quick to bow their heads at the acknowledgment from the king, but Skaikru simply shuffled on their feet, unused to the rule and pageantry of monarchy. Clarke smiled softly at everyone in the room, but she knew it was halfhearted at best.

 

“We managed to pull basically as much from bunker two as we did from the primary one,” Monty said, handing a tablet to Raven after an unsure glance at Roan. “The layout is pretty much the same, but a slightly smaller scale. The Primary bunker will house probably 2500, maybe 3000 people if it absolutely had to, but I think this one maxes out at 2000. There is a large area on the bottom floor that seems designated for animals.”

 

“Really?” Clarke said, surprised, looking up sharply. “How big?”

 

“The area runs the same width as the rest of the bunker, and the bio-waste disposal area is much larger so I’m guessing it was supposed to be used to keep some form of larger livestock. Maybe horses or goats? I’m not sure they would survive going back out after we open the doors again, but it may be something to consider.”

 

“So bunker two has space for animals where the first has space for vehicles, robotics, and mechanics,” Clarke remarked, seeing the pieces fall into place. “I wonder what bunker three was designated for?”

 

“Weapons,” Raven answered, as she scrolled through the new information on the tablet. “There was a massive cache to store weapons. Not sure that there were any there, but that’s what it was designed for.”

 

Roan looked sharply over at Clarke. The third bunker had been found partially exposed, and its walls caved in where a large crater of earth had been dislodged. It seemed a large explosion had caused it, but what the source could have been was anyone’s guess.

 

“Maybe it’s better it was destroyed,” Clarke sighed. “But we could have done with the extra space.”

 

“Anything of note to report?” Roan asked, eyes landing on two warriors specifically. They had been the Azgeda he had chosen specifically to lead the way along with a tracker from Trikru. Octavia had suggested the man accompany the group to bunker two as it was on Trikru land and Roan had agreed after a conversation with Indra. Clarke was still amazed no one showed up with evidence of violence, permanent damage, or worse yet, dead.

 

“No, sire,” a dark skinned man named Tybalt stated. “We were not followed.”

 

“There were some signs that there had been others in the area, but it was long ago,” the second warrior, a fair-haired young woman named Dawn, shook her head in agreement with the first.

 

Roan nodded, sitting back and running his fingers along the stubble on his cheek. He was assessing the potential risks of the situation and processing the new information. They had room for nearly six thousand people separated over the three bunkers. It wasn’t every last man, woman, and child in the ten krus of the alliance, but it would house more than three quarters of those who remained by Clarke’s vague estimation.

 

“You are dismissed,” he said, eyes on the tired riders. The warriors from Trikru and Azgeda bowed and left immediately seeking out some well-earned rest. The Skaikru members remained, less used to following orders and a bit more unwilling. Miller’s eyes flicked over to Bellamy who crossed his arms. It appeared they weren’t leaving.

 

“Anyone who needs to, go and rest,” Clarke said, eyes on her friends. “But you’re free to stay and fill us in on anything we need to know.”

 

“Thanks, Clarke,” James said with a relieved smile, he looked almost asleep on his feet. “Sorry ours was a bust.”

 

She smiled as she accepted the young man’s apology and he left the room, followed by all of Skaikru except Monty, Miller, and Bellamy. Clarke wasn’t overly surprised, but she was wary. She hadn’t spoken to Bellamy since their trip to find the presidential bunker, and he was still looking at her with a measure of hostility.

 

“So, I’ve managed to hook up the communications network from Becca’s bunker to the presidential bunker’s systems,” Raven explained to the people left assembled in the room. “I piggybacked them all into a central point there, because her bunker will survive, even if it won’t house any people. It can run independently away from that point if we need it to, but it will be more efficient this way. It means that we have three bunkers that can all communicate with each other. I think that counts as a win.”

 

“It is,” Clarke agreed with a smile at her friend. “So we know how many spots we have now. We need to get the bunkers prepped and people assigned to quarters.”

 

“How are you going to choose who gets a spot?” Bellamy asked, eyes hard and set on Roan, but his tone was civil.

 

“A summit will be called today and the clans of the Coalition will be told about the bunkers,” Clarke explained. “It’s up to them to decide which of their people get a spot.”

 

“Some people, like Trikru, have fewer people left,” Monty pointed out. “We only have about four hundred and fifty or so in Skaikru. How are you going to make this fair?”

 

“We bring it to the Coalition,” Roan said when Clarke was at a loss. “Ten clans have to agree on five thousand people, that’s five hundred per kru. We leave seven hundred free for now until we can decide what to do with the remaining spots. The ones who have less or who have people willing to give up their lives for others to survive will be redistributed. Anyone with specialized knowledge will be prioritized.”

 

“So Azgeda can save more of their own?” Bellamy asked, and the anger was back simmering under the surface.

 

“Azgeda has more people than many of the clans,” Roan said, not offering an answer or a justification. Bellamy snorted and shook his head humourlessly, and Roan narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“We will do what’s fair for everyone,” Clarke said, eyes moving between the two men. This was going to be the hardest part of survival, choosing who had the chance to live. She still kept the list of one hundred names with her things, a stark reminder of the sacrifices that may have to be made at any time.

 

“We’re going to have to split Skaikru up into three groups based on skills and what equipment they can maintain,” Raven said, breaking into the tense silence. “Farm station knowledge will be essential, so will mechanics and medical, even IT and tech. Some skills we will be able to teach over video link, but others we will need immediately. We need to start training backups too.”

 

“Which bunker will you be living in?” Roan asked Raven whose eyebrows shot up in shocked surprise.

 

“I get to choose?” she asked the king, and he graced her with one of his rare smiles. Clarke admitted that she was a little surprised at the offer herself, but knew Roan had started to count on Raven’s council as he came to understand their reliance on technology.

 

“I should be in the Presidential bunker,” Raven said with confidence after a moment’s consideration. “That’s where the main network will be so if anything goes wrong in there I can hopefully fix it.”

 

“Agreed,” the king nodded. He looked over at Clarke. “The summit will meet in two hours. Everyone is here in Polis and anxious for news. The riders did not come and go unnoticed.”

 

“We’ll be ready,” Clarke acknowledged and with a small incline of his head to her, he rose. His eyes swept over the assembled Skaikru before he turned and left the chamber presumably to organise the summit and prepare the last details before presenting the information.

 

“Is there an open invitation to the summit?” Bellamy asked, once they were alone.

 

“If you want to go with Kane as part of Skaikru, you are free to attend,” Clarke answered. Monty looked between the two leaders with a worried frown.  


“But not as an officially invited guest?” he asked, his hands on his hips.

 

“No, Bellamy,” Clarke replied. “You know what a meeting of the summit entails. And we won’t be sharing anything new. You know more now than they will.”

 

“But you will be deciding who gets to live,” he challenged, but without the edge of anger she had grown used to over the last weeks.

 

“Yes,” she acknowledged, holding his gaze and hoped he found what it seemed he was looking for.

 

“And your husband,” he stumbled over the word, and shook his head before continuing. “He won’t only have the interests of his own people in mind?”

 

“If you are implying he will only see to benefit Azgeda,” Clarke shook her head. “He is leader of the Coalition. He wants everyone to have the opportunity to survive. So do I. We will do what is fair for everyone.”

 

Her declaration of support preceded a heavy silence. Monty still alternated looking between his fellow delinquents, and Miller had crossed his arms over his chest, eyes downcast on the floor. Raven still seemed occupied with the tablet, pouring over the data, but her fingers were gripping the edges tightly.

 

“If you still trust me, Bellamy,” Clarke said, locking her eyes on his dark ones. “Then you can trust Roan. We are all in this. I’m getting tired of fighting against your suspicions.”

 

He watched her, and she took a moment to look him over. His unruly curls were still dusty and dirty from the trip and stood out at odd angles, creating a messy halo around his face. His lips were drawn in a tight frown and she could tell he had locked his jaw, the ticking of the left muscle indicating the force he ground down on his teeth. He looked tired.

 

“I made my choice,” she continued quietly, eyes firmly holding his. “And I trust Roan. He is a good king. He is a good man. And I will continue to stand by him. And our people.”

 

She watched his face and saw the moment her words struck a chord. His shoulders sagged and his stance softened. She didn’t like the pain that shone in his eyes, and hated being the cause of it, but it was better this way. For both of them to move forward from something that never was. She still needed her best friend.

 

“Okay,” he sighed, nodding his head shortly in the affirmative. “I’ll go speak to Kane.”

 

And with that, he left the room without a backward glance, Miller hot on his heels. Clarke slumped a little in her chair and rubbed at her forehead, still careful to avoid the scabbed brand around her eyes. She felt Raven’s hand grab her own and looked up to see her smiling sadly at her, a glimmer of pride in her dark eyes.

 

“Do you need the bunker schematics?” she asked, knowing her well enough to leave what just happened behind until there was more time to explore her feelings.

 

“No, thanks, Rae,” she said returning the squeeze, pouring more weight into the word than the question begged. “There will be enough today to sort through. I’m not sure if they will be happy or if this will make things worse.”

 

“How could more spots make it worse?” Monty asked.

 

“People were prepared to fight a war over one bunker before,” Clarke said. “Now there are three. More space. Enough for a whole clan. It may be tempting to some.”

 

“But they still need us, right?” he continued. “I don’t want to sound arrogant, but they’d die without us. None of the grounders could work the equipment. Not soon enough to keep enough of them alive.”

 

“Scared people do stupid shit,” Raven shrugged. “But we need to focus on what we can do. Let Roan worry about keeping the peace.”

 

“If that was supposed to be reassuring,” Clarke joked a little half-heartedly, too drained form the disappointment of a lost bunker and the conversation with Bellamy.

 

“Hey, you’re the brains of your dynamic duo,” Raven continued with a grin. “He’s the muscle and the strategy. You’re both gorgeous, so you’ll have to share that honour between you.”

 

Clarke laughed shaking her head, the tension in the room starting to fizzle out as Monty joined them.

 

“Okay, so I can get you a basic listing of what each dorm room will accommodate,” Raven started and the three friends busied themselves with getting as much detail on the living arrangements as possible. By the time Willow came to collect Clarke for the summit, the trio had a listing of every available space in the bunker and a rough distribution of Skaikru tasks that would need to be filled in each location.

 

*~*~*

 

There had been a spark of hope ignited in the clans after the announcement about the two new bunkers. People were working harder than they had been before, aware that there was now a chance that their own survival could be guaranteed. The day after the summit organised to inform the clans, their ambassadors had returned with an approximate headcount of their members. When they had run through the numbers a second time it was decided each clan would get five hundred and fifty spots to fill, leaving about two hundred spots still unaccounted for. These would be used at the end as a lottery for all who remained in an effort to guarantee peace and keep hope alive.

 

Out of the remaining ten clans Azgeda, Boudalan kru, Podakru, Louwoda Kliron and Ouskejon Kru had more than five hundred and fifty people for their available spots in the bunkers. Trikru asked only for three hundred spots, their numbers depleted from the recent losses and there were several older members who had asked to stay above ground in lieu of other people surviving. Yujleda said they would only take their allotted spots, and they would bring the proposal to their people, allowing them to choose who would survive.

 

Trishana kru also numbered about four hundred and fifty and Delfikru reported their own numbers at about fifty more but would ask if there were volunteers to stay above ground.

 

The remaining spots would be put up for anyone remaining who entered their name into the lottery. Children and teenagers would make up sixty percent of the lottery spots, at a suggestion from the Podakru elder who was present at the summit. They would need people who could help future diversity, so the young and able would have to be prioritized. Not a single member opposed the proclamation. The lottery would be held in two weeks, allowing a week of travel and preparation to move into the bunkers for those who were not already in place while still allowing some buffer if the radiation levels spiked earlier than projected.

 

Skaikru had spread their own people over the three bunkers, assigning spots where their skill sets would be best put to use. Members of the original Farm Station on the Ark were busy preparing others in Arkadia, holding lessons on how the equipment worked and needed to be maintained. Abby and Doctors Michaels and Thomas were teaching basic first aid courses, and four people had been singled out for intensive training as additional medical officers. They may not be able to perform complex surgery, but hopefully it would give them a fighting chance.

 

The pre-assigned spots in the three bunkers would be moving in with the first allotment of supplies a week from now, with the rest following at the conclusion of the lottery. Clarke and Roan would remain in Polis and lead the group to the presidential bunker, now dubbed Alpha bunker, and the remainder would continue a half-day’s ride further down to Beta bunker. The Polis bunker would be closed and sealed when they departed, assuring the safety of the people left behind.

 

Every day since the summit had been filled with meetings and preparations and Clarke again found herself sitting beside her husband at a meeting with the ambassadors responsible for plant and food requisition. It was a smaller meeting, and the ambassadors stood around the throne room. Clarke had hoped this would have made the meeting quicker, but it seemed every last detail was to be discussed. They had already had one this morning discussing the best route to the bunkers for the survivors who would be leaving shortly to start the set up process. She was bored out of her mind.

 

Clarke tried to concentrate as the advisors listed their current assets and what was ready for transport to the smaller bunker. Things were going to plan, and everything was running smoothly. But Clarke was never good with supply lists and inventory unless it had something to do with medical supplies and that came from years of habit and helping her mother in the infirmary. She valiantly tried to focus, knowing that it was important to know all the minor details, but it was useless.

 

She glanced over to where Roan sat, listening attentively and occasionally interjecting with a question or suggestion. She ran her eyes down his seated form and found herself fixated where his long fingers ran up and down the length of the hilt of his knife. It was a habit of his she had started to notice when he was listening carefully or deep in thought, his fingers would stray down to his side, running the pads of his deliciously rough fingers up and down. She wondered if he knew he did it. But once she noticed her mind, which had already happily fled the scene, wandered back to the night before and how those same fingers plunged deeply inside her, finding all the right spots to bring her to the edge and back.

 

Raven had been very right about how much those long Azgeda winters had taught Roan. She thought about those same fingers pinching and pulling on her nipples as he feasted between her legs, never slowing, never tiring. And she remembered how they slid firmly down his cock as it jutted out toward her, teasing her before he sank inside with a deep groan, one that curled her toes and called to a primal part of her. Lost in memories it took her a moment before she noticed that his fingers had stopped and looked up to find him watching her with dark eyes.

 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Roan announced, never breaking eye contact with her, a small smirk flashing at the corner of his lips. “See to the transport arrangements of the plants and come back tomorrow after the midday meal.”

 

Clarke looked around, watching the advisors and ambassadors present straighten and slowly make their way out of the room. She remained seated as they filed out and the door echoed hollowly as it shut behind them. She heard the creak and rustle of leather and fabric and looked up to find Roan stalking toward her.

 

“Now what has got you looking so intently at my knife, Wanheda,” he rumbled, a small smile on his lips. “Plotting to kill me and take the throne?”

 

“No, then I would have to pay attention at these meetings,” she smiled and shook her head, heart picking up its pace at the predatory movement of his body. He cocked an eyebrow at her, stopping just short of where she sat, before leaning forward, placing a hand on each side of her, effectively caging her in. His eyes travelled down her face, pausing briefly on her lips, and focused on where she knew he could see her chest rise and fall with deeper breaths.

 

“So what are you plotting then?” he asked, leaning closer, and her eyes fluttered closed as his stubble rubbed softly against her cheek.

 

“Nothing quite that violent,” she sighed as he placed a kiss below her ear, she moved her hands to grab onto his forearms, already feeling her body respond to his proximity.

 

“Then what has got you too distracted to focus?” he teased, leaning back to watch her, his normally sky-blue eyes darkening, reminding her of the sea before a storm.

 

Clarke didn’t respond, content to let him watch her, knowing he was fully aware of what was causing her distraction. He leaned in and kissed her lips softly. He pulled away as soon as she tried to surge forward to deepen it, shaking his head at her.

 

“I’m not sure I should reward you for falling short in your duties, my queen,” he admonished, voice deep and rasping. He nipped hard at her throat and she inhaled sharply, moisture flooding between her legs.

 

“It’s important for you to focus,” he continued, voice low in her ear, and Clarke was practically panting even though he had hardly touched her.

 

He straightened up, standing tall before her, and Clarke was suddenly very focused on what was happening in the room. He took a step back, never breaking eye contact with her. She sat still waiting to see what he would do, trying to stop herself from squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to get a bit of friction where she needed it.

 

“What should I do, Clarke?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes glinting darkly at her. “To help you focus.”

 

“I think the subject matter of the meetings is the problem,” Clarke said. “It’s not very stimulating.”

 

“And what would stimulate you?” he asked, voice rasping over each word, making them drip with innuendo.

 

“I can think of a couple of things,” she smiled teasingly up at him and gave in, rubbing her thighs together, but the movement offered very little in way of actual relief.

 

Roan watched her, making her wait and squirm under his heady gaze before approaching her once more. He kneeled down between her legs, using her knees to pull her to the edge of the seat. Clarke leaned down, attempting to capture his lips in a kiss, but he evaded her efforts. Frustrated, she huffed and saw him smile in response.

 

“Maybe a little discipline will teach you the importance of focus,” he said, reaching for the buttons of the deep v-neck of the shirt she wore, popping each one open as she watched.

 

“Do not move.”

 

Clarke felt all the blood in her body rush down to her clit, the command sending a delicious shiver through her. It was the command of a ruler who knew he would be obeyed without question and it made her flush hot in anticipation.

 

Roan deftly spread the material of her soft shirt apart, and pulled it down to expose her utilitarian bra underneath. He leaned forward, sucking her nipple through the worn material, leaving a dark wet patch behind as he switched sides. Clarke moaned lowly, remembering that there were two guards posted outside the doors who would be able to hear her if she was too loud.

 

Leaving her other nipple, Roan pulled the material of the bra away, leaving her exposed to the cool air. He captured the left one in his mouth once again, while his fingers set to work on her right. Clarke had learned that he was quite fond of her breasts and often spent time worshipping them.

 

“What if someone comes in?” she asked, eyeing the door to the chamber that was only recently filled with people.

 

“I am the king, Clarke,” he said before he sucked hard. “If I wanted to lay you down on the floor in the middle of the throne room and fuck you in front of every last one of the ambassadors, I could.”

 

Clarke moaned, gripping the armrests of the chair tighter, and he chuckled.

 

“Though I’m not inclined to share you,” he added before he bit down none too gently, sending shocks of sensation down to her clit. She was uncomfortably wet and the thought that anyone could walk in was a more delicious aphrodisiac than she would have imagined. She never thought herself to be an exhibitionist before today.

 

“And are you going to lay me down and fuck me?” she challenged, as he released her breasts, sliding his hands down her sides to grip her hips. He ground his pelvis into her, making her moan softly and the temptation to move against him was infuriating, but she stayed still, rising to his challenge.

 

“Good girl,” he said, as he noticed her restraint. He repeated the action over and over again, moving his hips in a slow circle, each movement causing her pants to rub against her clit, but the pressure was always gone before it did anything more than tease. She breathed deeply, focusing on the wood below her fingertips and willed herself not to grab him and tackle him onto the ground before riding him into oblivion.

 

“I think I’m much more inclined to take you right here,” he said, his mouth against her ear, his hot breath fanning down her throat. “Leaning over the chair you sit in every day. Or maybe, the throne is a better fit for a queen.”

 

She shivered, the thought of coming into the room where they conducted each and every strategy meeting and remembering the feelings currently coursing through her was almost too much. Her fingers tightened their grip and her eyes fluttered shut. Though whether it would help her focus in the future was certainly up for debate.

 

“Stand up,” he ordered, pulling away from her, leaving a cold rush of air to flow between them. She opened her eyes to find him palming his erection with those beautiful hands as he stepped back and unclasping his sword belt. She quickly got to her feet, stepping closer to him.

 

“Turn around,” he continued, and pointed to the imposing chair made out of bone and metal. She was quick to comply and took the few steps that left her standing before the throne as she heard him set his scabbard down on somewhere behind her. She felt him come up behind her and his fingers worked the buttons on her pants.

 

Once he had them open he slipped a hand into her panties, pressing up against her back when he discovered just how wet she was. He circled her clit slowly, pressing down slightly, offering her just a hint of relief. He used his other hand to pull her pants halfway down her legs, leaving her exposed, but her legs were essentially bound in place.

 

“Put your hands on the arms, and lean forward,” the command rumbled behind her as he removed his hand and Clarke whimpered at the loss. She felt him shift and looked over her shoulder to find him unbuttoning his own pants, pulling out his cock and giving it a firm stroke.

 

“You are not allowed to come until I say so,” he instructed, one hand firmly grasping her hip as he used the other to guide himself inside of her. They both moaned as he seated himself in her fully, and the hand on her hip gripped her tightly.

 

He started to move, setting a hard and fast pace, the head of his cock hitting the perfect spot deep inside of her. Clarke kept her hands firmly in the place he told her and moaned lowly as she already felt the build up of her approaching orgasm. She knew she wouldn’t last long and the combination of the threat of discovery and the thrill of obeying his every instruction made for an intoxicating and heady mix.

 

She clamped down around him as he slammed into her and the action caused his nearly brutal pace to stutter and tore a moan from him. His hands gripped tighter and she knew she would have more bruises to add to her collection from the night before. She felt the approach of her climax and did her best to focus on anything else to keep it at bay, but it was becoming more and more difficult to resist giving in and letting go.

 

“I can feel you struggling, Clarke,” he rasped, voice a little breathy from the exertion. “You want me to let you come?”

 

“Please,” she moaned, his voice not helping her stave off her orgasm. She clenched her inner walls hard around him, hoping to encourage him to give in. He kept up the fast pace, the soft slap of their bodies coming together and their heavy breathing the only sound in the room. She was so very close.

 

“Roan,” she moaned desperately. “Please…”

 

He leaned forward, reaching a hand down to her clit, fingers hovering over their intended destination. His other hand came up to cover her mouth, allowing her the freedom to cry out.

 

“Let go, my queen,” he whispered, and pinched her clit hard, tearing her orgasm from her as she cried out against his palm, still doing her best to keep her voice low. Her legs shook and she felt Roan’s hips stutter and slow as he groaned into her throat. He stayed still for a moment, but movement from the hallway brought reality crashing back around them and he pulled out of her with a sigh.

 

He moved his hand from her mouth but she grabbed it and kissed his palm as he straightened, tucking himself back into his pants. Clarke straightened, her back still to him, breathing heavily. She felt his hands back on her hips, pulling her against him, letting her lean her weight against his chest. She wiggled her pants up her legs, grimacing slightly they caught on her sweaty thighs. Roan’s hands pulled her bra back into place and worked at slipping the buttons back through the correct holes, giving her chest a playful parting squeeze as he kissed the side of her throat.

 

Clarke turned in his arms and pulled his face down to meet her own, claiming the kiss she had searched for so desperately in the beginning. This one was slow and gentle, and she poured her affection and satisfaction into the languid movement of her lips against his.

 

“Now I will never be able to focus during meetings,” she said when they broke apart, a wide grin on her face.

 

“Maybe you just need an incentive to do so,” Roan smirked at her, eyes full of promises that Clarke was more than willing to collect on.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are amazing. Truly. 
> 
> Next week I'm pretty busy with preparing to move and gishwes (when I have the time!) potentially but I will try and post the next chapter in a couple of days. RL is never dull apparently! Especially when I could use the break. 
> 
> Anyhoo, enjoy!

 

“Again,” Roan said firmly as Clarke exhaled a pained breath from where she stared up at the blue sky above her head. She huffed as a hand extended above her, interrupting the previously unhindered view.

 

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” she groaned as she rose with the added help he offered. She dusted off the back of her leather pants and blew a stray curl out of her line of vision.

 

“I’m trying to make sure no one else does,” he countered seriously, picking up her discarded sword and passing it to her.

 

She wrinkled her nose in distaste as her fingers closed around the hilt of her light sword once more, the newly formed blisters and calluses from her intense lessons stinging in protest. Her wrist and arm were sore and her back ached from its frequent rough contact with the ground. It didn’t feel like she would be doing much to defend herself if it came down to a one-on-one battle with anyone using swords, or sticks, or even fists at this point. She wasn’t terrible, but she wasn’t making the progress she had hoped and it left her unmotivated.

 

“Stop raising your left shoulder. And you need to tighten up your core and square your hips or you won’t be able to parry with any force,” Roan instructed eyeing her positioning, completely focused on his task.

 

He hadn’t even come close to breaking a sweat and Clarke wanted to pout. They had already been training for over an hour and she had seen Octavia slink into the training area a few minutes earlier and started feeling a little self-conscious knowing she couldn’t come close to matching the younger girl’s skill with weapons.

 

“Here,” Roan approached her and physically moved her body into the position he wanted her in. “You’re doing well, but you are over thinking your movements, just trust yourself to move like you need to.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled as he went back to standing before her and she missed the warm contact of his hands on her hips. “You’ve been doing this since you could walk.”

 

“Not quite,” he chuckled. “Don’t compare yourself to anyone. You’re doing much better than you were at the beginning.”

 

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” she sighed as he laughed. She squared her hips, tightened her core, and took a deep breath, trying to focus on what she had learned up to this point.

 

Roan nodded and moved toward her, raising his arm in an exaggerated motion so she could see where the attack would come from. They were nowhere near trying to teach her to anticipate where an attack could come from. She moved her feet quickly into a solid stance and raised her weapon to defend. The blow he dealt her was strong and her arm gave a little under the force, but she was proud to note it was significantly less than when they had started. She moved back, defending against his attacks rather than attacking, giving herself time to watch for any indication of a weakness in his defenses.

 

When he raised his arm the next time she ducked low and spun, sweeping her sword out toward his right flank. Her attack was blocked quickly, but it was the first time she had managed to successfully come that close and she smiled. She used her new confidence to try once more, moving closer to him and successfully making him defend against her for three successive sweeps before he hooked a foot around her leading foot and she once again became acquainted with the light blue sky and feathery white clouds.

 

“Well done,” Roan’s smiling face appeared above her and she let out a happy laugh, finally feeling like she had accomplished something. When he pulled her back onto her feet, she allowed the momentum to carry her forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight. He wrapped his free arm around her with a rich laugh lifting her feet off the ground.

 

“Your instincts are good,” he complimented her when he set her back on her feet. “You just have to learn to trust in yourself a little more.”

 

Clarke didn’t say anything, just nodded happily as she smiled up at him. She was incredibly proud of the miniscule progress she had made and she could see that Roan shared the sentiment as he tucked her hair behind her ear.

 

“You’re improving,” Octavia’s voice brought Clarke back to the here and now and Clarke looked over at the brunette.

 

“Seems like it,” Clarke agreed, too happy with her progress to worry about being self-conscious. Roan shifted away from her, squeezing her waist softly before leaning down to retrieve her sword for her once again.

 

“That’s enough for today, Wanheda,” he said cupping Clarke’s chin and briefly running his thumb along her jaw. “You did well.”

 

Clarke smiled happily up at him and pulled away before she would be unable to resist leaning up for a kiss. She looked over at Octavia who was watching the couple with a small smirk, eyes glittering with humour. She shook her head briefly at Clarke briefly before dropping the smile, slipping on her warrior mask and facing the king.

 

“Ready, haihefa?” she said, confidence glittering in her dark eyes as she looked up at the king.

 

“Always, Skairipa,” he replied with a confident smirk and took a step back away from Clarke, readying himself for the training session he had promised the young Skaikru warrior.

 

Octavia grinned excitedly at Clarke, eager to test herself against a new opponent after her extensive training amongst the Trikru warriors. Octavia had made a comment about how training had become predictable while in the king’s company and he had been more than happy to offer her a change of pace and gave her an open invitation to come train with him when she felt ready. Octavia had tried to play off the invitation with her usual cool detachment, but had been unable to keep the excited smile off her face for long.

 

Clarke walked to the edge of the training area, grabbing a cup of water and taking a seat on one of the benches to watch for a few minutes before heading to the bathing area to wash off the dirt and sweat. She stretched her legs before her, her muscles protesting after her training session. Not even her joy at improving would help the deep ache in her arms and thighs.

 

Roan and Octavia were circling each other slowly, throwing a few test parries against each other, hoping to expose any particular weakness or obvious opening in their opponent’s defense. Once the initial testing period was over they started sparring with more intent.

 

Octavia was certainly a skilled fighter, but it was obvious she was at a disadvantage against Roan. He was bigger, stronger and moved quicker than she did, but every time she faltered, Octavia sprang back into action. Her tenacity and stubbornness giving her enough strength to continue and her persistence gave her some advantage. When Roan managed to disarm and trip her in one quick move, ending with the tip of his sword the base of her throat she laid still for a long moment, breathing heavily before her face split in a grin.

 

“You have got to show me that one,” she said as she rolled away from him, springing easily onto her feet before reaching to pick up her sword once again. Clarke laughed quietly to herself and downed another cup of water before standing and making her way out of the training area, leaving her friend and husband to train.

 

*~*~*

 

Two days later, Clarke was sitting at the table in their chambers trying her best to replicate a delicate rose Roan had brought her that day. Since giving her the sketchbook and coloured pencils and listening to her fears about missing the beauty of the world above, he had taken to picking up a new piece of flora or fauna for her when he was out during the day checking on their preparations. He never made a show of it, but she generally found a new flower or two in the little glass that sat in the middle of the table when she came back to their chambers before the evening meal.

 

Since discovering the new little habit, she had made an effort to take an extra thirty minutes in the afternoons to sketch each of his offerings in as much detail as she could. The new addition to her routine had brought her a measure of peace and relaxation she hadn’t realized she needed, and now found more energy to focus on the mounting list of tasks left to do before moving into the bunkers. She had several pages of different flowers and plants that made her smile as she flipped through them and made sure that she left her sketchpad sitting open on her latest sketch when she was finished.

 

Clarke looked up in surprise as the door to their chambers opened and Roan entered, shooting a glance over to where she sat at the table. He eyed the sketchbook that was open on the table before her and his lip quirked up a fraction before his features smoothed back into his stoic mask, one he had started wearing less and less around her in private. Clarke frowned before seeing the two people that entered behind him.

 

The first was a tall, slender woman, who looked to be a few years older than Clarke, with long, dark brown hair and sharp blue-grey eyes that immediately met her own. Clarke put her pencil down carefully and maintained eye contact with the woman, noting the crescent brands that framed her eyes, marking her as an Azgeda of high rank. She looked behind the striking woman to see a young man, maybe younger than herself, though it was hard to tell, with pale hair. He was nearly Roan’s height, but his eyes remained downcast so she was unable to see much of his face.

 

Roan stopped before her and she stood and approached him, allowing him to see the questions swimming in her eyes. He smiled briefly, eyes warming as he looked at her before turning to face the two visitors.

 

“Clarke, may I present my sister, Aeir kom Azgeda,” he indicated the woman who smirked briefly at Clarke, but nodded respectfully. “And my youngest brother Miki kom Azgeda.”

 

The young man finally raised his eyes, watching her expressionlessly, and she noted his bright blue eyes as he quite obviously evaluated her. She figured he must be a half-sibling based on what she assumed of his age and what she knew of Roan’s father.

 

“Aeir, Miki, I present my wife, Clarke Griffin kom Azgeda, previously of Skaikru,” Roan said formally and Clarke smiled hesitantly, shooting a glance over at her husband.

 

“I have heard many stories about your victory against the Mountain Men. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Wanheda,” Aeir said as she took a step further into the room, her eyes running over Clarke’s face.

 

She had the same piercing gaze that Clarke associated with Roan but her scrutiny felt new and unknown. Clarke made an effort to meet Aeir’s penetrating gaze with one of her own, holding herself as straight and tall as she could. She knew Roan had siblings, but had not really anticipated meeting any of them, as naïve as that seemed to be now. It was a product of not having any herself she supposed. She hadn’t heard anything about it and struggled to find a way to respond to Aeir’s greeting.

 

“They just arrived in Polis,” Roan explained before Clarke could return the sentiment, watching her carefully. “Aeir retrieved Miki from one of our camps up north where he has been training for the last year. They have been assigned to Beta bunker as the Azgeda representatives.”

 

“That’s great,” Clarke said, looking back at the pair, unsure of what to say and still quite shocked at their presence in the room. Roan hadn’t mentioned they were coming, or the role they had been already given which surprised her a little given the time they had spent together. It would have qualified as important information and the fact that he hadn’t told her stung a little.

 

“I take it you didn’t let her know we were coming, sire,” Miki said finally, his tone much more hostile than Clarke expected and her eyes immediately moved over to the younger man.

 

“I was only informed of your imminent arrival an hour ago,” Roan said with a sharp edge to his tone. “I hadn’t expected you until next week.”

 

“We made better time than expected,” Aeir conceded frowning at her younger brother. “We thought it best to come as quickly as possible given the circumstances.”

 

Roan nodded. Clarke was unsure of what to say and shifted her feet before she was able to hide how uncertain she was. It seemed the siblings were at best slightly uncomfortable with each other and at worst a little hostile. She glanced between the trio trying to find the common thread that bound them all together. If she were to guess, Aeir and Roan shared both parents and may be quite close in age. She certainly carried herself as someone who had a lifetime of experience behind her already. Miki on the other hand seemed uncomfortable with his older siblings, and his colouring suggested he took after a different father, since it could be safely be assumed he was Nia’s son.

 

“I’m sure you’ve had quite the long journey then,” Clarke broke the silence a little uncertainly, eyes focusing on Aeir. “I assume Roan has organized rooms for you. Did you want a chance to rest or are you hungry? I could ask Tyko to request dinner be brought up.”

 

Clarke felt Miki’s hard stare, but kept her eyes on Aeir who glanced between Roan and herself. She raised a brow and quirked her lips, relaxing her stance slightly before looking at Clarke once more.

 

“I’d kill for a bath,” she answered finally with a short laugh. “If I can indulge in that before dinner I’d be grateful.” She glanced over at the younger brother who still had not taken the opportunity to say anything.

 

“Miki will do the same,” she added with a shake of her head.

 

It seemed the youngest of Nia’s children was not overly happy with the state of affairs. Clarke nodded and walked past the two siblings to the door of their chambers, opening the door and glancing around to find Willow standing on alert. Clarke didn’t even have to ask if the guard had heard the exchange before the woman spoke.

 

“I’ve already sent runners down to prepare baths for them, azplana,” she said in low tones, eyes glancing at the small crack in the door warily. It made Clarke pause and frown deeply, wondering what caused such a reaction. She was desperate to ask further, but after a low murmur of conversation she heard movement behind her.

 

Clarke stepped back as Miki brushed by her, a short nod his only acknowledgement. Aeir smiled at her before following her brother out and it seemed that was that. Clarke looked back inside toward the table where Roan stood staring absently at the open sketchbook on the table and she quickly went back in, thanking Willow as she closed the door behind her. She was confused and tried to quickly work through what had just happened. She took a few steps closer to Roan.

 

“So,” she started and he looked up at her. “Your sister and brother.”

 

He watched her with a guarded expression that irritated her. He hadn’t said anything about them coming and now he was still not offering her an explanation.

 

“Were you going to tell me they were coming?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Or anything about them at any time?”

 

“I didn’t know they were coming today,” he said by way of explanation and she rolled her eyes with a huff.

 

“But you had asked them to come,” she prompted hoping for more. He nodded and turned away from her, unbuckling his sword belt. After placing the belt and scabbard on the table he busied himself with his jacket. He seemed to be avoiding the conversation as much as he could.

 

“Are you going to help me here at all?” she asked finally, approaching him.

 

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know! How am I supposed to know what to ask, Roan?” she finally gave in to her irritation and her tone sharpened. “I knew you had siblings. I had no idea they were coming here. I should have assumed so I guess but I have learned not to take anything for granted. How am I supposed to keep up with everything if you don’t tell me what to expect?”

 

“It’s complicated, Clarke,” he said, leaning back against the table and crossing his arms. “My family is complicated.”

 

“All the more reason for you to tell me about them,” she implored, squaring her shoulders. “I can’t support you if I don’t know when you need it.”

 

He frowned at her words and looked at her for a long moment, eyes tracking over her face. She was angry and a little hurt that he had kept this from her, but he seemed very uncomfortable about the entire situation. It didn’t excuse keeping her in the dark however; especially since they were here, in Polis, right now.

 

“Aeir is my eldest sister,” he said finally with a reluctant sigh, keeping his eyes fixed on the windows behind her. “She’s a healer like you and a sword smith. She has lived apart from us since she was ten and studied with a master smith and healer. She never liked our mother and chose to leave permanently after our father was executed when she was thirteen. I can’t count how many times she asked me to leave with her.”

 

He shook his head humorlessly and Clarke frowned. She stepped closer to him, and he eyed her cautiously. She stopped short, not wanting him to stop speaking, but wanting to reassure him in some way. She reached a hesitant hand out and laid it on his forearm where it was crossed over his chest. He shifted under her hands but didn’t shrug off her touch. It felt an awful lot like being back at the beginning with him.

 

“Miki is Nia’s youngest,” he continued, maintaining eye contact with her this time. “He was her favourite child and I am certain she was grooming him to succeed his older siblings. He was quite angry after Lexa killed her and left to study under one of her closest advisors in the northernmost part of Azgeda territory. I asked Aeir to collect him and see if he is willing to join us.”

 

“So, the fact that he’s here indicates he’s willing to try?” Clarke asked and saw his face shutter closed.

 

“That is what I am trying to establish,” he said, searching her eyes. “If he’s still unwilling, he will not be asked to join us.”

 

“You’d leave your brother out?” Clarke asked, trying to keep the concern out of her tone. She hated having to decide over the lives of strangers, but she couldn’t imagine what it was like to exclude your own family from survival.

 

“If he is not willing to let go of the past and move forward as the rest of the Coalition is, he is no different than Cherno,” Roan answered with conviction, eyes hard.

 

“But,” Clarke started but cut off abruptly when she saw the look in his eyes.

 

“It is not something we can afford to debate,” he said, shifting under her hand and she allowed it to slide up onto his chest, moving closer to where he leaned against the table. “I will not risk the lives of others for the sake of one person. The fact that it may be my brother does not change that.”

 

“Why not assign him to Alpha and look after him yourself?” she asked.

 

“He neither likes nor trust me,” he acknowledged, uncrossing his arms and opening his stance slightly allowing her to step closer again to him. “In case that much wasn’t obvious.”

 

“And he respects Aeir?” Clarke asked, smoothing her hand down the planes of his chest and stepping into his personal space. She smiled a little when he grasped her hips, holding her firmly.

 

“More than anyone else who would be able to maintain some control over him,” he confirmed. “Though even that has its limitations. He has been alone with Nia’s supporters for a long time.”

 

“Okay,” she nodded. “Anything else I need to know? Any other siblings that are going to pop up in the next few days?”

 

“No,” he shook his head a little sadly. “My eldest brother died when he was barely twenty. Otto was my youngest sister’s partner, his boys are my nephews, but she died in childbirth many years ago. I have heard rumours that Aeir has a daughter, but she hasn’t confirmed that to me personally. I will offer the child a place in Beta as well if she wishes it.”

 

“Big family,” Clarke commented a little amazed and confused about his coldness about his potentially unknown niece. It was so unusual for her to think of people having siblings in general, and so many seemed completely bizarre.

 

“Azgeda winters are long,” he replied with a suggestive smirk and Clarke shook her head.

 

“That’s a very convenient excuse,” she replied and the hands holding her hips squeezed tight as he chuckled.

 

“It is what it is,” he said and widened his stance to pull her closer.

 

“Why hasn’t Aeir told you about her daughter?” Clarke asked carefully, watching his face close down a little.

 

“I was banished,” he answered plainly. “She had no reason to trust me with that type of information.”

 

“I wish you had told me this before they came,” Clarke admitted, eyes straying down to his chest. It seemed the relationship between the siblings was very turbulent, and she wondered is she would even be able to navigate it properly.

 

“Would it have made it less uncomfortable for you?” he countered.

 

“No, but I wouldn’t have been as surprised,” she argued feeling her emotions twist again. She didn’t like being left out of important information, especially such crucial information.

 

“It worked in your favour,” he commented and her irritation was back full force.  


“You don’t think I can handle a situation like that if I was prepared for it?” Clarke felt her muscles stiffen and hoped he wasn’t implying what he was.  
  
“You over analyze almost everything, Clarke,” he sighed. “You would have worried needlessly over this meeting and made the whole situation worse.”

 

“So you were manipulating me to get the reaction you wanted?” she said as she pulled back away from him.

 

“Not exactly,” he said, but didn’t deny it. A hollow feeling started in the pit of her stomach. She had hoped they had gotten past this point where they hid things from each other.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She said as she backed away from him, pulling out of the hands that slackened over her hips.

 

“I didn’t want you to worry about something that may not happen,” he continued explaining, eyes guarded once again. “I wasn’t sure they would even make it to Polis.”

 

“So you chose not to tell me anything? That’s not fair, Roan,” she said as she shook her head, trying to guard her own emotions from him. His cool detachment always made her feel small and she did her best to put up her own protective wall. It was harder than she imagined it would be.

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve kept information from each other,” he pointed out and Clarke glared at him.

 

“That is not the same,” she argued and failed to keep the hurt from her tone. “I though we were past this, that we are more now than we were then.”

 

“Clarke,” Roan implored rising as he reached for her. She shrugged off his hand on her shoulder as she turned away, hugging her arms over her middle in an attempt at comfort. She had chosen to trust him implicitly and it was starting to become obvious to her that he may not have extended her the same courtesy.

 

“It’s fine,” she said, but she knew the crack in her voice denied her statement. “I think I understand.”

 

She heard him sigh behind her and when his hands settled on her shoulders again she didn’t bother fighting him off. They would still need to present a united front when his siblings arrived and she could tamp down on her hurt until she had a private moment. He turned her towards himself and she felt rough fingers hook her jaw and she allowed him to raise her face up to look at him.

 

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” he said, eyes open for the first time since he interrupted her sketching time. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

“It’s fine,” she evaded again, trying to pull away from him and from the concern in his expression. She was a big girl. She could handle this.

 

“I’m not used to having anyone want to know about me or about my family without ulterior motive,” he said after a moment, maintaining his gentle grip on her jaw. “It doesn’t mean I don’t trust you. I will never be comfortable talking about my family and I’m not sure it’s something I’ll be able to explain.”

 

“You implied you wanted me to react a certain way,” she challenged, not quite ready to back down. “That you purposefully kept this from me so I would have trouble working through my surprise.”

 

“I wanted you to meet them without forming impressions of them based on what you know of me,” he said, voice rough and edged in bitterness. “And it was as much of a power play from them both. They could have sent word they were coming early and didn’t until we spotted their party of riders. We are family but we aren’t close. Aeir and I were once, but after she left home she drew away from me. Once I was exiled I couldn’t speak to her without facing execution or imprisonment and she never tried to seek me out. In Miki’s case it would be more accurate to describe him as a rival to the throne. All he has ever known is Nia’s lessons.”

 

“But you still should have told me,” she insisted, weary and hurt. She looked back at him, letting her guard fall once again, knowing it wouldn’t do her any favours to hide the effect of this on her.

 

“I should have told you,” he acknowledged finally, cupping her cheek and running a thumb over the freshly healed stars on her cheekbone. She watched him closely, searching his eyes for any trace of evasiveness or hesitation. She desperately wanted to believe him, give him the piece of her heart she already knew she was holding for him. But she was scared.

 

“Okay,” she sighed, going into his arms when he pulled her close. 

 

She tucked her head down under his chin, and laid her head against his chest. It was as much forgiveness as she could give until she had more time to examine her feelings.

 

“I’m sorry, I won't keep something like this from you again,” his voice rumbled through his chest and she breathed in his comforting and familiar scent.

 

His apology went some way to soothing her and she hoped she could rely on him to keep his word. Trust was a very fragile thing and she wanted to be able to rely wholly on him in this regard. She would allow him this one slip for now and hope it wouldn't be repeated. He had given her more than one chance to earn her way back into his trust. They would move forward and face the next challenge. They would be in the bunker soon and once they were she could decide if she was ready to give her heart to him. Until then she would stand beside him and support him as she had promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I know this could technically qualify as "angst-lite" (maybe), but it's important. It takes a little while for a lone wolf to learn to let someone help him :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again everyone! 
> 
> So I really can't look at this chapter any longer. It's a challenging one to get right, and I'm not sure I have gotten it precisely where I wanted it, but if I work any more on it, that will ruin it. Oddly enough, chapter sixteen is one of my favourites and almost unchanged from when I initially wrote it, maybe that's why I don't like this one... 
> 
> For those who want to know. Aeir comes from the viking goddess Eir and I incorporated her main talents for healing and weapon forging as part of my character too as a bit of a nod to the source. Miki is an inuit word for Little, so his was a bit more straight forward. 
> 
> So that's all really. Enjoy!

Clarke glanced down the table, eyeing Miki as he ate his meal in silence. The youngest of Roan’s siblings certainly seemed the most unlike her husband, though she had so little to compare it to. But even in appearance the young man was different. Where Roan and Aeir must take after their father, Miki bore a striking resemblance to the late Azplana kom Azgeda. He had the same sharp eyes, though they were a shade darker than hers had been, and the same nose and lips. He had yet to be branded as Azgeda which Clarke assumed meant he wasn’t yet sixteen. 

Aeir was idly conversing with Roan, discussing the general attitude of Azgeda about what was to come. As she no longer lived in their capitol she seemed to have a more general sense of what most people felt, a welcome change for Clarke who was growing weary of the overly political opinions of Polis. Clarke was surprised at how at ease Aeir was after Roan implied the rift between them. It seemed his sister was less affected by past hurts and appeared, at least to Clarke, quite happy to be reunited with her eldest sibling. 

“A few older members feel that you should have taken the bunker by force,” Aeir commented as she sipped her mead, her eyes flickering briefly over to Clarke. “But they are fools who do not understand what is coming.”

“We are only fools if we blindly trust the words of Skaikru,” Miki interjected with a very pointed glare at Clarke. She kept her face neutral, meeting the young man’s gaze with a hard one of her own, keeping any trace of emotion from her eyes. 

“That is only Nia’s poison flowing through your veins, little brother,” Aeir admonished sharply. 

“Mother knew Azgeda did not need to rely on the other clans to succeed,” Miki argued, turning his eyes to his sister. “We have thrived on our own without their assistance for generations. We have no need for the Coalition to survive what’s coming.”

“You think you and the others could run the tech?” Aeir scoffed. “Grow food without sun and water? Produce air to breathe from machines you do not understand? You are not gods.”

“At least I do not act as if they are,” he spat back, his elegant fingers tensing around his knife. It seemed this was an old argument judging by the irritation in Aeir’s icy blue eyes. 

“There are other ways to bring them to heel. We have already seen some work against them,” he continued pushing back from the table, tension crackling in the air. Clarke was relieved to be a few seats removed from him, but knew from experience that she could be dead in a second if he had any skill at throwing knives. Roan shifted in her periphery, but she refused to move her eyes from his brother. 

“What Nia always failed to understand,” Roan said and Clarke heard the simmering undercurrent of anger in his tone. “Is that slaves make a poor foundation to build a world on. Eventually even the most oppressed man will revolt, as she herself felt she had the right to do, no matter how deluded that justification was.”

“And if she had succeeded we would have been able to save thousands of our people instead of theirs,” Miki snarled, his youth making his temper more volatile. 

“If she had won we would not have known what was coming,” Roan argued dispassionately. “We would all be dead by now. The only reason we have the time we have now is because of Skaikru, much of it thanks to Clarke and her friends.”

“Am I to assume they’ve told you this?” Miki challenged, watching Clarke coldly before turning his focus back on his brother. “I suppose they are in perfect position to make you believe them now. She is quite beautiful for someone so soft. If she is an example of what you get when you barter freedom for a bride I’m not entirely sure I blame you, sire. She must be incredible stuffed full of cock if that’s all it takes to make you forget where you come from.”

Clarke drew in a breath as Roan stood, the smile on Miki’s face too cold and cruel for such a young man as he leveled it on his brother. She shivered as he turned the smile on her and felt her breath catch at the malice in his eyes. Before she had a chance to react both Aeir and Roan had moved around the table to flank their brother on either side. Miki’s eyes darted between the two and he raised his hands before him, the same cold smile still in place.

“I had hoped you would join us, little brother,” Aeir said a little sadly, one hand on the hilt of the long knife hanging off her belt. Miki hadn’t made any threatening gestures, but it seemed the elder siblings were wary that he might. Clarke remained sitting tall in her chair, refusing to show any weakness in face of such an obvious challenge. 

“Join you?” he laughed bitterly. “I’d rather die knowing I do so in honour than suffer through seeing the end of great people of Azgeda.”

Roan looked reluctant as he eyed his younger brother. Clarke could imagine that even though there was no strong connection between the two that he was still disappointed that this was the path Miki had chosen. When he grabbed the younger man’s elbow, Miki twisted quickly, throwing a solid punch and landing it squarely on his face. Aeir responded immediately, grabbing his free arm and twisting it high behind his back, enough to make Miki’s face contort in pain. Roan shook off his surprise and roughly pulled his brother away from the table, a small trickle of blood already visible from a split lip. 

Clarke finally stood as Roan forced Miki out of the room, calling out for Tyko and Sagua who were standing guard just outside the doors. She didn’t know what Roan would do with his brother from here, but she knew he couldn’t be allowed to stay in Polis unless it was in the dungeons down below. Even though he was young, such strong fanaticism had a way of spreading, and Nia’s favourite son was a great symbol to stand behind should a rebellion want to rise in the few weeks before the end.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get him to see reason, azplana,” Aeir’s voice startled her as she walked up beside Clarke. When she turned to look over at the older woman she was staring at the doors with a resigned look. 

“Some people don’t want to change, no matter the cost,” Clarke said a little sadly having known enough people to know that compromise was not always the favoured path. “And please call me Clarke.”

Aeir smiled at her when she tore her eyes away from the door. She looked back to the table and turned to take her seat once more as if nothing had happened. Clarke couldn’t shake the shiver running through her and when Roan reentered she met him halfway into the room. 

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, searching his eyes for any hint of what he was thinking. She reached out and ran her thumb over the split in his lip and he stayed still, eyes burning down at her. He remained silent but placed a hand on her shoulder and she moved her hand from his face to flatten it over his heart, reassured by the steady beating beneath her palm. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and his eyes flickered over her face. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

“It’s what I expected,” he sighed and looked over her shoulder to where his sister sat and Clarke remembered they weren’t alone. She pulled away from him and turned to find Aeir watching them closely. Roan moved forward, putting his hand on the small of her back and giving her a small push to get her into motion. 

Clarke resumed her seat at the table but found she wasn’t hungry any longer. She took a long sip of honeyed mead, enjoying the warmth that flooded her cold limbs. 

“What will you do with him?” Aeir asked after the silence had stretched on too long. Her tone was interested though seemed to lack any judgment and she looked resigned to whatever lay ahead for their youngest half-sibling.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Roan acknowledged, glancing over at Clarke. 

“It would be best to send him home under guard,” his sister advised, holding her brother’s gaze. “Unless you want to leave him locked away. He could persuade those of similar mindset if you let him stay here.”

“Do you know who shares his ideas?” Clarke asked, already alarmed by the turn of the evening. Dealing with a revolt was something she wanted to avoid at all costs. 

“I know a few,” Aeir nodded. “I will give you a list of who I believe would only cause trouble or attempt a coup when the doors are sealed.”

“What about the other clans?” Clarke asked and looked at Roan. “If there are Azgeda who oppose this, there will be others. Kane and Jaha have done their best to keep Skaikru happy, but it hasn’t always been easy. How do we protect everyone against an unknown group?”

“We won’t be able to,” Roan acknowledged, setting down his utensils and pushing his plate away. “There is nothing we can do but assign the best leaders for each bunker. Each clan will have to decide who will act in their best interest, as well as that of the Coalition. The balance between our collective needs and that of individual kru is essential to our success and to our people’s happiness. Rebellion will always be a threat. We just have to ensure we do our best to quell any dissatisfaction as diplomatically as possible and listen closely to what our people need.”

Aeir chuckled darkly and Clarke looked over at the unexpected reaction. She was watching her brother with sharp eyes and Clarke didn’t know her well enough to define the look on her face.

“Nia must be screaming in whatever hell she’s burning in,” the older woman smiled, her whole face softening. “I always knew you’d make a good king, Roan.”

Clarke let out the breath she was holding and smiled softly before turning her eyes back to her husband. Though he was masking it well, he was surprised and when he met her gaze she nodded at him, throwing her support behind his sister’s words. He was a good king and the decisions they had still to make would be difficult for all involved. 

“So what was it like growing up in Skaikru?” Aeir turned her attention to Clarke. “I would be quite interested in hearing more about your healer training. I am told your mother is a surgeon.”

“Yes, she is,” Clarke nodded when she got over her surprise at the change of topic. 

The rest of the meal passed in easy conversation, mostly between the two women and their shared knowledge of the healing arts. It seemed Aeir was very interested in the opportunity to expand her knowledge and Clarke promised she would speak to Abby on her behalf. They would both be in Beta bunker, representatives of their respective clans so she may very well be able to train under her if she proved herself competent enough. And Clarke had little doubt that wouldn’t be the case. 

As Aeir said her goodbyes a while later, Roan embraced her warmly much to Clarke’s surprise. She had rarely seen him touch anyone apart from those he trained with and it warmed her heart to know that he had at least one more person who was quite obviously supportive of him. She allowed the siblings their own quiet goodbyes as she remained by the table and out of earshot. Roan smiled widely at something Aeir said and glanced over at her. 

“I hope you have time to spare before praimfaya,” Aeir said as she approached her.

“Absolutely,” Clarke acknowledged with a grin, having quite enjoyed the conclusion of the dinner. “If not I’ll make some.”

The older woman nodded at her, eyes glittering with laughter at a joke Clarke must have missed. Clarke smiled in return and was surprised when Aeir reached out and pulled her into a strong hug.

“Thank you for lifting some of his burden, sister,” Aeir whispered as she pulled away, turning and striding toward the door without waiting for a reply. She was out of the room before her words fully registered in her mind, leaving Clarke staring dumbly at where she had been standing. 

“She likes you,” Roan said as he placed a hand on her back, jolting her back into the room. She looked over at him to find him smiling softly down at her. 

“She likes you too,” Clarke returned and he shook his head with a grin and she watched him for a moment coming to a realization. “You missed her.”

“I did,” he nodded, pulling her close and cupping her cheek. “She was never like any of the others. Neither was Yarrow, but she was still young when she died. ”

“Your other sister?” she asked as she curled her arms around his shoulders, digging her fingers into his hair. He hummed an affirmative, eyes moving leisurely over her face, settling briefly on her lips, before meeting her eyes once more. Clarke pushed up on her toes and kissed him softly. It was warm and brief and less than she wanted but it had been a long, emotionally trying day. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Roan said, echoing her own thoughts. “It’s been a difficult day. And tomorrow may be longer yet.”

Clarke nodded and quickly shed her clothes and washed up before slipping under the warm furs that covered their bed. She laid herself along Roan’s naked length when he joined her, tucking her head under his chin and slipped her arm around his chest. She reveled in his warmth and strength and as his hand ran over the skin of her lower back she pressed herself closer with a sigh. 

She still had to process the hurt and the conflict with Roan, but after seeing the decision he had to make about Miki, she found it harder to fault him. He found it hard to trust anyone, much like she did, and maybe sometimes it was best to just forgive each other. As his fingers ran over her spine she closed her eyes, promising herself as always, to examine everything when they were safe. It didn’t take long before the stress of the day gave way to exhaustion and pulled her into sleep.

*~*~*

"Why are they shaped like wings?" Clarke asked Roan the next morning, as he lay on his stomach beside her still languid and heavy with sleep.

It was still very early, but she had slept fitfully and woken at dawn, too many worries making her mind too active for proper rest. She has been watching him sleep, relishing in the rare opportunity as he was always the first to wake. Whether it was his warrior instincts or paranoia bred from a lifetime of backstabbing and threats to his life she wasn't certain, but she took the time to memorize details about him she normally didn't catalogue. Clarke had watched each slow inhale and exhale, curious to see how long it would take for him to become aware of the prickling sensation of being watched.

Once he had begun to stir a few minutes later she had reached fingers out to trace the raised ridges of his scars. She never asked him about them, knowing it was a private memory. He would chose to share it with her when the time was right for him, if at all, but with the emotional tumult of the day before she yearned to know a little more about him. This morning the sun pouring in through the windows cast shadows that danced deliciously over his skin making them flicker and move on their own and she couldn't resist asking just one little detail. 

"You never ask me about any of them and then chose the most personal aspect to test your curiosity on?" He rumbled, one eye cracked open, amusement glittering in its blue depths. 

Clarke stopped the movement of her fingers for a moment thinking about what he said. She always assumed the reason he got them, the act that earned him the marks, would be the most personal. She had no idea how the scars were picked but going from her own marking ceremony it suddenly dawned on her that he must have chosen the design. He chose to give himself wings and that particular revelation made her even more curious. 

"They were suggested to me by someone I considered a friend and I liked the idea behind them," he said after watching the play of emotions over her face. "But if you were looking for a less personal question ask me how they were done. Or even why."

"Do you want me to ask you less personal questions?" Clarke countered, fingers resuming their caress and his muscles twitched in response.

"It depends on why you are asking them," he replied after a moment, eyes closing under her ministrations.

"I'm not plotting against you, if that's what you're worried about," she dropped a kiss at the top corner nearest the crest of his shoulder just at the edge of the scar. He huffed under her in irritation. 

"You have gone too deep to deceive me, Wanheda," he said running a rough hand over her side, one eye cracking open to look at the scars on her face. "It would depend on if you're asking to satisfy a passing curiosity or if you want to learn something about me. Those are two very different reasons."

Clarke watched him in silence for a while, not wanting to be glib when she caught the darkness behind his eyes. There was something hidden deep within them and she wondered, not for the first time, what had made him hide himself away from so many for so long. She suspected that he was more open with her than he had been with anyone in a very long time. She had noticed a change in how he carried himself around her, the stiff tension that eased between his shoulders when they were alone. She wanted to dig deeper and find out what made him the man he was today. Who he modeled his leadership on as it certainly didn't come from Nia and where he had gotten his deep compassion for the people he was responsible for. Who had taught him to fight and read and to fuck like the world was ending some days while others he left her raw and bare from his passionate intensity. 

"I want to know about you," she answered softly, eyes open and honest. Clarke knew what she was risking but she was suddenly desperate to know everything about him. He watched her for a long moment, turning his head more fully toward her. 

"I always watched birds of prey as a young boy," he started quietly, the words rough and halting. "I admired their connection to the sky and the freedom they had to move from place to place as they wanted to. I felt trapped growing up knowing who my mother wanted me to become and who I aspired to be."

Clarke looked at the pattern on his back and saw the battered wings of a young boy yearning to fly. They were wide across his shoulders, but still tucked tight against his spine, the ability and purpose there but not the wide spread wings of free flight. She thought of her own metal cage and how she often dreamed of dissolving into stardust and floating through the empty vacuum of space. She thought about the stars on her temples and couldn't help the small quirk of her lips.

"I was marked after I led our people against Oushejon kru as they made a push to take some of our land," he continued. "I was twenty-one and we slaughtered their warriors with no losses on our side. Nia informed me that I deserved to mark myself as a leader and conqueror that day. I don’t remember her ever being proud of me before that day or after it. Elder Takaani who had been my tutor since I was young drew the pattern and told me I finally earned my own wings. I was finally free."

His eyes grew distant as he lost himself to memories that she could only guess at. She continued tracing the interlocking lines knowing without asking that he would have lain still for hours under a knife as strips of flesh were carved out of him. The recovery would have been long and painful, but they were well kept, the edges still sharp and fluid which meant he didn't suffer an infection during the healing process. Her fingers found two long, wide lines that bisected the lower corner of his right flank and wondered what he'd done that warranted a brutal whipping, but decided that the question could wait for another day.

"Of course that would depend on whom you ask," he said bitterly and Clarke was surprised he continued the conversation. “It didn’t feel like freedom.”

"I think they suit you," Clarke said softly and his eyes sharpened in their focus when they locked with hers. He didn't say anything in reply but continued to watch her silently, maybe wondering about her own choices.

“I used to dream of being stardust,” she whispered and his eyes shifted to her temples. “I wanted to dissolve and float away so often as a child. I wasn't thinking about that when I picked these but maybe it was there in the back of my mind all along.” She finished with a small shrug, a little uncomfortable under his close scrutiny.

“Does that mean you're looking for an escape or that you've found your way?” He asked, and there was an undercurrent in his tone that spoke of wariness rather than simple curiosity.

“I think it means I found my own freedom,” she said after weighing her response, eyes drifting to the windows and the muted sunlight. “Maybe you have too, even if it took a little longer than expected.”

She certainly didn't feel trapped in her current circumstances, regardless of how she ended up where she was. It seemed to be a theme in her relationship with Roan. Initially a captive turned reluctant ally turned friend before they were on opposite sides once more. Then when the world needed saving they found their way back together as allies and friends, saving each other then faltering again before finally uniting to hopefully save the world once more. 

This time they had laid deeper roots, crawled into the hidden spaces within themselves and each other, sharing and opening parts of themselves that they had been desperate to hide only months earlier. Clarke knew that she had already given Roan enough to shatter her completely and her heart was invested in him, but not completely conquered. She could admit to herself that she feared that soon he would. 

Her eyes flicked back to him when she felt his large, warm hand caress her hip and lower back. His eyes were clear and open, sky blue and endless as they peered up at her. She had trouble naming the emotion she saw behind them but the corner of his lip was quirked up in what could have been a smile. 

"What did you do in all the time you had on your own?" Roan asked her, and the question confused her even as it pulled at her insecurities. He had never asked her about her time in solitary but since he shared something intimate, she assumes it’s fair.

"In space in general or after my father was executed?" She asked for the sake of it, taking the time to collect her thoughts a bit more and decide how much she wants to admit to. 

"Both," he says, rolling onto his back, a hand reaching by up to tug on a curl. The admission surprised her and the question is suddenly more intimate than before. 

"We watched movies, read books, played games," she started, running a finger down his chest, tracing the ridges of muscle at the top of his abdominal wall. "We used to watch recordings of sports they used to play on earth. My friend Wells was really into football. It used to be called soccer on this continent but we watched the English premier league games and that's what we knew it by. He always used to say he was born too late. He should have been born Before and he would have gone pro." 

Her lips twist into a bittersweet smile. It still hurt to remember the things about Wells that she loved. To remember the way his lip used to rise a bit higher on the left every time he was trying not to laugh and the way his brow always furrowed in a different way when he lied. The furrow she knew she had misinterpreted when he swore he hadn't told Jaha about her father. The empty stare he had turned up to the stars when they carried his body back to camp. She cleared her throat trying to ease the tightness there and find her voice again. 

Roan's eyes were curious when she raised hers from his chest. The question he wanted to ask was written in them but he didn’t voice it, giving her the space to decide for herself what she wanted to tell him.

"He was my best friend," Clarke answered softly. "I thought he was the reason they found out about my dad. He made sure to get a spot on the shuttle to earth and spent his whole time here trying to convince me he was sorry about telling Jaha. Jaha was his father so I had just assumed. Of course he was just protecting me from finding out that it was really Abby who told Jaha all along." 

"When did he die?" Roan asked.

"He was one of the first. A young girl blamed Jaha for an injustice done to her family and therefore Wells," Clarke choked on his name. "The sins of the father I suppose. She slit his throat and we found him the next morning. I still miss him every day. He was my only ally for so long and I just lost him. I didn’t believe him when I needed to the most. I failed him as a friend. He’s dead because of me." 

He didn't say anything in response to her but he snaked a hand around her back and tugged her down to drop a kiss on her bare shoulder. Clarke blushed and ducked her head to hide it, not sure what to make of such a clearly affectionate and comforting display. She felt some of the sadness lift and wondered idly what Wells would have made of everything in her life at this moment. She was sure he would have told her it was a horrible idea bound to get her killed right before he volunteered as well. She smiled as she saw his crooked grin in her mind.

"I think Wells would have thought we were crazy to try to do all this, then jumped right into the fray. He would have loved everything about what we were doing. Especially once he saw how much Jaha hated it," she said with a smile and Roan's chest shook in a silent chuckle and she continued tracing the scars on his chest. 

She hesitated a little, keeping her eyes on the imperfections in his golden skin. He had told her some of the stories behind them but there were many and some were obviously more painful to recall than others. She found the one on his right hand side, just above his belly button, close to his flank where he cauterized himself after she stabbed him. Her fingers often strayed to it, subconsciously seeking out something she couldn't understand herself. Looking for the evidence of their past perhaps. That they had started somewhere far from where they now lay in bed, dragging out the time before their day started.

"In solitary," she started and tucked herself more firmly into his side. "I was angry. I wanted to tear the Ark apart panel by panel and scream until my throat ripped open. I screamed a lot too. Until I couldn’t speak for days actually. That's why they put me in a soundproof room. Nothing out, nothing in. They couldn’t risk anyone hearing what I had to say."

A shiver ran through her as she allowed herself to go back to that room and the cold metal walls and the tinny nothingness of that place. She shut her eyes as the familiar panic rolled through her, breathing out the isolation and the broken, bloody fingernails from scratching at the walls and the bruised battered knuckles from trying to punch through the glass window to the outside world. She felt a warm, rough hand slide down her spine and burrowed into his warmth as ice formed around her memories.

"Eventually someone brought me charcoal and paper to draw on," she continued, her voice tight. "I assume it was Abby’s version of an apology. I didn’t understand it at the time but it kept me busy. Plotting revenge, escape. Drawing dreams. I tried to sketch my father but I still can't do it. I just see his eyes in that last goodbye and that's it." 

Roan didn’t say anything, just kept a steady rough slide of his fingertips along her spine. She felt raw and exposed and all the pain she buried deep enough to function festered and churned in her belly. It has always hurt too much to cry about it. She wants to think she's gotten past it all, but everything in life follows on from something and she wouldn't be here today if it weren't for her time on the Ark. If she hadn't fallen from the sky, cast out of where she grew up and to the place she knows is home. 

If her father hadn't been so brash and they had fixed the issues on the station she wouldn't have faced her own fire and come out bruised and battered on the other side, but stronger and more whole than when she entered it. Wells would be alive and she would laugh with him about some pointless, inconsequential thing but she would never have tasted the rain and sky or found someone whose scars cut as deep as her own. Clarke knows she wouldn't change where she is now, impending apocalypse or not, for the safety of where she was. Come what may, at least she had a chance to live. 

Clarke ran her hand a little more firmly down over Roan's belly, lightly scratching her nails, leaving goose flesh behind. He shifted slightly and flattened his palm against her lower back, waiting. He rarely initiated intimacy between them, and Clarke suspected it was part of his reluctance to push his advantage, though he knew just which words to whisper in her ear and where to touch her to rouse her attention. Though she hardly needed much convincing. She ran her fingers in wide circles, going considerably lower on each pass until she just scraped against the top of the coarse hair at the base his cock.

His breathing had deepened and she threw a leg over his, pressing her body closer. He hummed in approval, his other hand reaching down to squeeze her ass as Clarke raised her face to his, seeking out his lips. He kissed her slowly, hands roaming over her curves as she reached down and grabbed his growing erection, stroking him firmly, running her thumb lightly over the tip as she'd learned he liked. He seemed content to let her explore, her hand stroking him firmly but not as hard as she knew he liked. She angled her head, parting her lips and shifted her leg over his waist to straddle him.

Two wide palms spanned the width of her waist, fingers digging in as their kiss deepened becoming wet and a little sloppy. Clarke felt the heat rise between them and rocked forward, pressing down and finding an angle to grind down against his pelvis. She hummed happily at the sensation and ground her hips in a lazy circle. She teased herself against his skin, growing slicker at every pass, his kisses becoming more urgent and she reached behind her to grab his cock once more.

Roan groaned deeply as she stroked him and he dug his fingers harder into her hips. She sat back and he followed to latch on to one her nipples, sucking hard and making her moan at her body's response. She allowed herself to enjoy his mouth on her breasts for a few minutes before she pulled away, sliding down his body until she was face-level with his cock. 

She hadn't done this much, but enjoyed making him come undone with her mouth. There was something powerful in reducing him to sensation and sound and wholly focusing on his pleasure. And Clarke suspected he was a big fan of getting his cock sucked based on his previous reactions to it. She glanced up to find him propping himself up on his elbows, eyes dark and full of anticipation. She licked her lips and his lips parted at the movement.

Grinning she leaned forward and sucked the head of his cock in her mouth while her hand kept slowly pumping the shaft. She alternated between long sucks and licks timing them to the movements of her hand. Her free hand reached down to fondle his balls, tugging gently on them when she sank her mouth down on him as far as she could go. This made him groan and tangle one of his hands into the curls at the back of head, the muscles in his abdomen contracting. She let him out of her mouth with a soft pop and licked a path down his shaft to give his balls the same treatment. When she nibbled her way up to and around the head, dipping her tongue into the crevice at the top he let loose a string of Azgedasleng swear words and clutched her hair tightly. 

Clarke hummed as she took him as deep as she could, bobbing hear head up and down. His hips had started twitching in response as he held himself back. Clarke was in a dirty mood so she met his eyes before pulling off of him. He was breathing heavily, eyes dilated to a stormy grey-blue. 

"I want you to fuck my mouth," she whispered and her voice sounded sultry to her own ears as it rasped over the vowels. 

"Fuck," Roan swore and stared hard at her as if deciding whether or not she meant it. She continued her task enthusiastically and moaned as she felt his hips start thrusting shallowly. 

She moaned louder and he faltered as her mouth vibrated around him but he picked up his pace and though he was careful, he used her mouth as she wanted him to. She kept the movements of her hand in sync with her mouth as she tugged his balls in her other hand. She kept her eyes on his as they tightened and she made an extra effort to relax her mouth and throat. 

He came shortly after with a hoarse cry and Clarke kept her movements soft and leisurely on his shaft as he came down and softened in her hands. He was panting as she crawled up his body, a light sheen of sweat coating his chest.

She leaned down to kiss him and he surged up, plundering her mouth. She happily reciprocated, pressing her body down on top of his, relishing in the warmth of skin against skin. He dug both his hands into her hair as he angled her head the way he wanted to and Clarke relished in giving up control to him. She hummed happily into the kiss and smiled as he flipped them over and leaving wet kisses down her throat.

He was quick to seize one of her nipples as he palmed her breasts in his hands, a little too gently for her in her rough and dirty mood. When he failed to increase the pressure to her liking she covered his hands with her own and squeezed.

"Patience," he scolded capturing her hands and seizing both her wrists in one hand. Clarke felt her heart rate spike as she pushed against him, a thrill running through her as she discovered she would be hard pressed to break his hold. The lesson where he had tried to show her how to get out of this particular hold hadn’t lasted long enough for her to learn anything of particular value. Roan smirked, having caught her reaction and her body's response. In bed was the one time she never complained about his intense scrutiny as it often led to very pleasant results. 

"Maybe I should bind your hands, keep you from giving in to temptation," he smiled wickedly as her mouth dropped open and she tried to press her thighs together but they were trapped around his hips. 

He squeezed her wrists lightly and she frowned when he raised himself off her and walked over to a chest in the corner of the room. He turned with a length of chord in one hand, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Clarke squeezed her thighs together as he walked back to the bed, running her eyes down the length of his body and licking her lips. 

"Is this what you want?" Roan asked as he came back to the bed, chord dangling in her vision. Clarke nodded, and he smiled dangerously. 

He reached for one wrist, wrapping the soft chord around it firmly, but not tightly, and pulled her hand above her head looping it around one of the bars that made up the headboard. Once that was done he reached for her hand and tied the remaining length around her right wrist. Clarke breathed deeply and pulled on the bonds, shivering when she realized she wouldn't be able to release them herself. 

"Good?" He asked, voice low as he ran the palm of his hand down her throat and chest. She pushed her chest up toward his exploring hand and he pulled away immediately. She frowned in disappointment and huffed. 

"Clarke," he admonished softly. "You need to answer my question." 

"Which one?" She asked, running a foot up the leg closest to her, and hooking it around his hip. 

"The bindings are not too tight?" He asked with an indulgent smile. 

"No, they're perfect," she replied, arching her back up and tugging on them for emphasis. He chuckled and pressed himself down on top of her, kissing her until she shivered below him. 

He kissed his way down her body, focusing on her tits. He sucked hard on one nipple while teasing the other lightly with his fingers. The contrast in sensation was frustrating and she whined, unable to do anything to correct the situation. He sucked deep dark marks on the undersides of her breasts as he finished, continuing his progress down her body, stopping only to swirl his tongue around her belly button. He had been marking her body recently, never anywhere the world would see, but private marks that he would return to, dark red patches of skin where he had sucked hard or dark bruises where he had allowed himself to hold on to her as tight as he wanted. 

He nipped at the bones and hollows of her hips and by the time he spread her open she was embarrassingly wet and moving restlessly below him, tugging at her bindings. It was incredibly erotic to be deprived of the ability to touch herself as she wanted to, relying entirely on Roan to not only please her but also release her. 

He lapped at her entrance, his tongue soft on her lips and nowhere near enough to stop the fire that burned through her.

"Roan, please," she whined, trying to press her hips into his mouth, but he held her firmly with two strong hands. 

He chuckled at her plea and applied more pressure but still not enough, releasing one hip and teasing her entrance with his fingers. He sucked on her clit as he increased the pressure of his fingers, thrusting two into her and curling them slightly. She moaned deeply at finally being granted a bit more stimulation that she was desperate for. 

He teased her mercilessly bringing her to the edge and back down with infuriatingly light licks and touches. Clarke had her legs clenched around his head desperate to encourage more, tossing her head from side to side while a contestant stream of 'please, please, please' whispered from her lips. Just as she was about to tear the bar off the back of the bed, he sucked hard on her clit while plunging three fingers deep inside of her and she shattered violently around his fingers, her voice cracking around her scream. 

She was still panting when she felt him move over her, his erection returned and bumping lazily along her inner thigh. She frowned when she tried to move her hands to wrap them around him and felt a thrill still buzzing through her body when she realized she couldn’t. 

Roan entered her in one hard thrust and her body parted happily around him. She was sensitive and the push of him inside her made her wrap her legs around his hips, encouraging movement. He set a moderate pace, enough to build the tension up in her body once more before he pulled out of her. Without a word, he flipped her onto her knees, mindful of her bound hands. He pulled her hips down, making her arms stretch before her, her forearms flat on the bed. 

Clarke felt his hands run down her spine to settle on her hips as he drove into her from behind, the new angle deeper than before and stretching her in all the right ways. He continued the pace he set before, and Clarke tried to get enough purchase against the bed to push back against him, but the position left her little other choice than to submit to him. His pace quickened and he pulled hard on her hips, making her moan deeply into the bed below her. She felt every thrust as it rocked her body forward, dragging her nipples across the furs, causing a delicious shiver to race down her body and into her cunt. 

“What do you need, niron?” Roan asked, leaning over her, his breath hot against the back of her neck. 

“I-“ she tried but broke off on a moan as he swiveled his hips just so. 

“Try again,” he said, gripping her hips tight. 

“I need you to fuck me hard,” she said on a rush of breath, arching her back as much as she could to encourage him to go deeper, harder, faster. 

Large hands gripped her tight and he started fucking her hard, the slapping of their bodies filling the air around them. She gripped around the lengths of chord between her hands, giving herself leverage against the hard thrusts. She was racing toward a climax and completely unable to affect it in any way and she found the idea intoxicating. It didn’t take long before the telltale tingle started deep in her core and it spread quickly and exploded through her belly, ripping a low scream from her throat as she buried her face into the furs below her. 

Roan stopped his punishing pace a moment later, thrusting deep and emptying himself into her, panting hard above her. He took a moment, running his hands down over her thighs and leaning his forehead against her back before reaching up and deftly untying her wrists. Clarke groaned as she brought her arms back down at the same time as he slipped out of her.

“Let me see,” Roan said, reaching for her wrists as she curled onto her side beside him. He inspected her wrists, and though there were two pale pink circles around each one from where she had pulled hard, there wouldn’t be any marks left behind. He dropped a kiss to one wrist before lying back against the bed, pulling her with him. 

Clarke felt the tempting pull of satisfied sleep at the edge of her mind, but knew it was almost time to get up and face the day. She allowed herself a few minutes for her heart rate to return to normal, content to lie against Roan’s side as he did the same. Soon enough the rest of the day would require their full attention and demand enough of their energy as it was.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all amazing!
> 
> This is really a fly-by posting because I have a massive to-do list tonight. 
> 
> Like I said at the start of the last chapter, for some reason this has always been one of my personal favourites. It by no means indicates that it's the best chapter, but I do hope you enjoy it!
> 
> And it's long! Bonus ;)

There were just over two weeks left before the death wave would hit Polis by Raven’s most recent estimate. The Coalition was gathered to discuss the final details for the lottery and the movement of the last bunker inhabitants. There were growing concerns about how the last few days would unfold above ground. Peace was holding with people still hoping to secure survival and any dissent would remove their names from the lottery, but once the names were drawn, there was no guarantee that order would hold.

 

“We must ensure the people chosen are safe to make the journey,” Kaha, the ambassador for Delfikru said. “There will be bloodshed when the names are selected.”

 

“What do you suggest?” the bearded representative from Yujleda said with a shake of his head. “We cannot be responsible for everyone. What man will protect another if their own life, and that of his family, are not guaranteed?”

 

“An honorable one,” Indra interjected and her statement was met with nods from several others. The debate had being going around in circles for the past half hour with one clan arguing that there would be no honour left among the people who would stay above ground while another countered that there was enough honour left among the clans.

 

A commotion outside the summit doors halted the discussion. A guard made his way up to where Roan and Clarke sat, whispering in the king’s ear. His features hardened as he nodded.

 

“Biala kom Ingranrona Kru,” the guard announced, and Clarke looked over sharply. A young girl with long, bright auburn hair entered, trailed by ten children. She looked to be thirteen, maybe fourteen years old, and her dark eyes glittered in challenge as she entered the room. She kept her eyes trained on the king and inclined her head respectfully when she reached the middle of the room.

 

“King Roan,” she said, and the children huddled behind her. “I have come to plead for your mercy for the last of our clan.”

 

“The leader of your clan forfeited your chance for mercy when he challenged me,” Roan replied, looking down at the young girl with cold eyes. Clarke looked at the small group of ragamuffin children. They were in various states of dress and at best looked tired, worn, and hungry. She frowned.

 

“Cherno kom Ingranrona Kru was a disgrace to our clan,” the girl spat in a clear voice, eyes blazing in anger. “He did not offer our elders a chance to vote on your proposition and he violated the blood oath he swore on the clan’s behalf. The decisions he made were his alone to benefit no one.”

 

Clarke was impressed by Biala’s bravado, she stood straight and tall and had the confidence of a woman rather than the girl she was. The children behind her were obviously frightened and watched the proceedings with nervous eyes, many stopping on herself and the king. She tried to smile at them, but she knew it looked more like a grimace and did little to reassure them.

 

“Be that as it may,” Roan continued, face stony. “As your leader, he decided your fate in the coming praimfaya. It was up to your kru to stand against him if that was what you wanted.”

 

“I understand, sire,” she said. “But I beg of you reconsider space for ten children. I understand you have room for thousands. They will earn their keep.”

 

“And thousands are destined to be left to face the end,” Roan argued, not swayed by the proposition. “And they all honoured their part of the alliance and have contributed supplies and knowledge to the Coalition.”

 

“I know that many have offered you more,” the girl continued to press, taking a step toward them. “I have nothing to offer you apart from this.”

 

Biala reached into a small bag slung over her shoulder and extracted what appeared to be a book. She looked up and met Clarke’s eyes, walking the few steps forward and held the thick tome toward her. Roan’s hand reached for it before Clarke could take it and she turned her eyes to his, an annoyed frown on her features, her blue eyes sparking with irritation.

 

“It is not a trick, haihefa,” Biala interjected when Roan pulled back to open the cover of the worn book. It revealed a faded seal bearing an eagle surrounded by stars.

 

“What use is this to me?” he asked, passing it to Clarke when he had assured himself there was nothing in it that could cause her harm.

 

“It was the most treasured possession of Ingranrona Kru said to hold information that would rebuild our world,” she explained, the answer recited in a way that indicated the knowledge had been passed down.

 

Clarke leafed through the pages, recognizing the seal of the President of the United States stamped at the bottom of many of them above words like ‘Highly Classified’ and ‘Top Secret’. She flipped through until she opened one that contained a list of what appeared to be GPS coordinates and a coded list of numbers. She shook her head and turned to where Raven sat, and took the few steps over to drop the book in her lap.

 

“You don’t know what information the book contains?” Clarke asked curiously. It seemed an odd possession to keep for a nomadic people.

 

“I have read it,” Biala said, another surprise, as few grounders were literate in English, especially ones so young. “But Ingranrona Kru have not had access to the archives it speaks of.”

 

“How did it come to be in your possession?” Roan asked.

 

“My father gave it to me for safekeeping,” she answered, lifting her chin, bracing herself.

 

“Your father was Cherno?” Clarke asked, realizing whom the young girl reminded her of. The man who had challenged them not long ago had eyes the same dark shade and shone with the same intensity as the girl before them. She met Clarke’s dark blue eyes and nodded once.

 

“You can be offered no mercy here, Biala kom Ingranrona Kru,” Roan said clearly, eyes narrowing and Clarke whipped her head to look at him.

 

“But they are children,” Clarke exclaimed, sitting forward in disbelief. Surely he wouldn’t toss them away just because of who her father was. Roan stared back at her, eyes hard and unwavering, daring her to challenge him.

 

“They are subject to the will of their clan, as everyone is,” he said, and when Clarke looked over at Biala she saw the desperate resignation shining from her determined eyes.

 

“Why?” Clarke asked her, following a niggling intuition churning in her belly. “Why bring this book to us and bring these children here when you knew what your father had done?”

 

“Because I had to try to save them,” she answered simply. “Their parents gave their care to me in hope of their safekeeping.”

 

The gathered ambassadors were watching the exchange carefully; curious as to why they were still being heard when Biala’s parentage was revealed. Clarke saw too much of herself in Biala, from the determined jut of her chin to the risk she took at a chance for a handful of lives.

 

“And you’ll give us the book?” the blonde asked, looking over to where Raven was scanning the pages intently. There was something there, she was certain.

 

“Yes,” she nodded. “Either way, it’s yours.”

 

“All they are asking for is a chance,” she whispered and turned her attention to Roan.

 

He clenched his jaw, jerking his head away to look at Raven who was still engrossed in the book. He stood and approached the children, looking the bedraggled group over, one hand gripping the hilt of the sword at his hip. He moved with less grace than usual, his anger seeping into his normally fluid movements. He turned to face her exhaling a frustrated breath.

 

“Are you truly suggesting that we take them in?” he asked, eyes blazing at her, features hard and sharp. “Her father challenged me. Put this whole Coalition in jeopardy. Putting our survival in jeopardy. I doubt he would have been as lenient with you if he had succeed and killed me.”

 

The thought made her breath catch. Clarke had worried about him on the day of the challenge, and if it had been issued today she knew it would have terrified her. But she knew in her bones this was the right thing to do. It was up to her to look out for those who needed her help the most.

 

“They are children, Roan,” she said softly, keeping her eyes on his, his mouth set in a hard line. He stood beside the group, keeping them in sight but facing her as she still sat on the dais.

 

“We were all children once,” he said, tone steeped in warning. “It is not how it is done. Her father’s actions condemned them.”

 

“And every child should answer for their parent’s choices?” she asked, and she felt the depth of emotion behind her words.

 

She had been a child whose only crime had been that she was her father’s daughter. He himself had had no hand in the decisions his mother had made on behalf of their people. Roan knew this and Clarke saw a flicker of doubt behind his icy expression. She stood and approached him slowly.

 

“Please,” she said quietly, aware of every eye on her in the silent room. “Look at them. If we turn them away they will die. We would effectively be executing them. I cannot let you do this.”

 

He stared at down at her, his fiercest glare in place and his features were stony with resolve. A month ago she would have wavered under this particular look but now she pressed forward. She knew deep down he didn’t want to leave them out when there was an opportunity to save them, but their ways had little allowance for traitors. She placed a hand softly on his chest, and his eyes flickered down to where she set it over his heart.

 

“Please, Roan,” she tried again. “We are better than this. The world we want to build has to be better than this. We cannot turn them away. They deserve a chance at the lottery at least.”

 

“You are too soft, Clarke,” he said lowly, it was doubtful any of the ambassadors would hear the words. “This is not our way.”

 

“But it can be,” she emphasized, searching his eyes, seeing his resolve slip just a little. Maybe just enough.

 

He sighed and clenched his jaw before dropping his gaze to the ground. He turned his head, grasping her hand that was still placed over his heart, to face the young girl.

 

“Biala kom Ingranrona Kru, the azplana offers you her mercy,” he said finally, words resigned and heavy with warning. “Do not take that gift lightly. We will see if there are any willing to accommodate your children, if not I will allow you to enter the lottery for the remaining spots.”

 

“Thank you, Heihefa,” Biala said, tears welling in her eyes, the first sign of emotion the brave young girl had shown. She turned to Clarke. Biala looked at the small clutch of children assembled around her and wrapped her hands around the shoulders nearest to her, with a soft command, the children kneeled.

 

“Heiheda,” she said, and the title echoed out amongst the children, Clarke’s heart stuttering in her chest at the display.

 

The small group filed out and Clarke met Indra’s eyes as she stared at her over Roan’s shoulders. The warrior queen watched her closely, but Clarke was surprised as a small smile quirked a corner of her lips as she inclined her head.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke whispered, and Roan’s sharp gaze cut over to her. He no longer looked furious, but he was still angry, eyes glittering dangerously. She would have to find a way to soothe his temper and ease his fears.

 

“If their bid succeeds,” he said low enough for only her to hear. “You are responsible for anything they do.”

 

She nodded, and tugged his hand towards her, placing a kiss on the back of it, much to the surprise of the assembled ambassadors and the king himself. She turned and walked back to her own seat, leaving Roan to follow as the remainder of the details of the lottery system were finalized for a few days time.

 

*~*~*

 

Following the summit, Roan left the tower of Polis and said he would not return until late in the evening. He would be overseeing the last of the provisions that were being packed and sent ahead to the bunkers. He had been short and distant with her as he took his leave and that hurt a little more than it should have. Clarke knew he was still angry at the recent course of events, but hoped that her tenacity was one of the things that endeared her to him.

 

Clarke heard whisperings of gossip as she ate lunch with Raven in the dining hall about what happened in the summit room that morning, but much of it was lost in the buzz of nervous anticipation about the upcoming lottery. Raven was still glued to the pages of the book, busy cross-referencing the numbers with her tablet, searching for anything that corresponded.

 

“I don’t know,” the dark-haired mechanic finally sighed, reaching for the bread that had been neglected next to her. “I feel like it’s important, but until I crack the code, it’s all just jargon. And a few guides about how to survive in case of major disaster. I need access to the databases at Alpha, they’ll have a lot more information hidden somewhere.”

 

“It’s alright,” Clarke smiled. “You’ll figure it out. And if you don’t, we’ve got bigger things to worry about and years to spend underground. Think of it as a pet project to keep you from going stir-crazy.”

 

Raven laughed, her smile wide and bright. She placed her tablet down on top of the worn cover and shrugged. The Blake siblings and Ilian chose that moment to join them. Octavia dropped into the empty spot next to Clarke, Ilian beside her, while Bellamy sat next to Raven. Clarke smiled softly at him and was relieved when he returned it.

 

“I heard you totally outmaneuvered the fearsome Ice King today,” Octavia said with her usual lopsided grin, eyes sparkling.

 

“Do I even want to know how much you know?” Clarke laughed and Octavia shrugged, biting into an apple.

 

“News travels fast even at the end of the world,” Octavia said and Raven laughed. “Especially when it concerns disagreement at the top.”

 

“And what are people saying exactly?” Raven asked, exchanging a look with Bellamy.

 

“Some are impressed, some are pissed,” the young warrior answered with her customary carelessness.

 

“Well that was a rich and enlightening tale,” Raven quipped and looked at Octavia expectantly.

 

“Many are impressed Clarke stood up for the kids. They are happy that they have been shown mercy,” Octavia elaborated around a bite of apple. “A few think Roan should have vetoed you on behalf of honoring the banishment. Trikru is happy Clarke did what she said she would and stood up for someone in need and opposed Azgeda. But the general consensus is that he’s the king and it was his decision.”

 

“You mean Clarke’s decision,” Bellamy corrected with a smirk at his sister and the vote of confidence warmed Clarke’s heart.

 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Octavia beamed at Clarke as she shook her head at them. Octavia would be in the Polis bunker with Ilian and Bellamy and Clarke was sad that she would be separated from them. Bellamy would be the leader for Skaikru in Polis and he had naturally demanded his sister be allocated room in the same place as him.

 

“Trishana Kru were very happy with your decision too, heiheda,” Ilian interjected with a soft smile and Clarke returned it with one of her own. She had noticed the way he watched the interaction between the friends and the special attention he paid Octavia. It had also not gone unnoticed that there was very little space between the couple. Maybe things were starting to settle between them.

 

“I think it’s great you stood up for them,” Bellamy said, locking his dark eyes with Clarke. “Everyone deserves at least the chance to survive.”

 

“Thank you, Bellamy,” Clarke smiled at him and a piece inside her heart that had been out of synch clicked back into place once again.

 

The remainder of her meal with her friends felt a little like it used to before their lives were hanging in the balance once more. Raven would be leaving this afternoon to head to Alpha bunker with a small group of guards and the last of the supplies so there was an undercurrent of sadness in the last shared meal the group would share for a few years. They would hopefully be able to communicate with each other, but the Polis bunker was the one that presented the largest problem in that regard.

 

Clarke took her leave of her friends a while later and decided to steal a few moments for herself that afternoon. She had been pushing herself hard and the next weeks would be doubly so with the lottery and the move into the bunker. Roan was still out and she had not had as much chance to sketch as she had hoped and longed to lose herself in her work. She was nervous about how he would act when she saw him again. It was the first time she publically opposed him and gotten her way. He was still a proud man and a king who generally got his way. There was no better way to get out of her head than to sketch her worries away.

 

*~*~*

 

“Azplana?” Sagua cleared his throat, the door to her chambers cracked open. Clarke raised her eyes from her sketch just as the door was pushed wider and Sagua was forced off to one side.

 

“I know my brother is out and I’m sure Clarke could use some company, Sauga,” Aeir scolded as she walked into the room and Clarke had to look back at the table to hide her laugh.

 

“Just because you have gotten your way in Azgeda doesn’t mean you can just barge in here as you wish,” the guard started to argue, face flushing in irritation and Clarke knew it was time to step in.

 

“It’s alright, Sagua,” she said and tried her best to keep the amusement out of her tone. It seemed Roan’s sister had quite the history with her people. The guard eyed her suspiciously but nodded with a bit of a huff, leaving the room while shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

 

“Still taking his duty so very seriously I see. He has always been too easy to rile up,” Aeir commented as she grabbed a drink and joined Clarke at the table.

 

She cast her eyes over the page she was sketching on, a charcoal version of her memories of the waterfall she visited with Roan so long ago. She didn’t say anything, but quirked a corner of her mouth before sitting down.

 

“Ready to make the move to the bunker?” Clarke asked as she finished of the last of the tree line.

 

“I didn’t bring much with me,” she shrugged. “I have the essentials and to be honest I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Is Rose excited?” Clarke asked, glancing up at Aeir.

 

Her daughter had arrived in Polis a few days ago and Aeir had happily sought out her brother to introduce him to his niece as soon as she had had a hot meal and a chance to wash off the dust of the road. Clarke hadn’t been there at the time but heard the story from him later that afternoon, his eyes glowing with quiet happiness. It warmed Clarke to see the change come over him, to see him enjoy spending time with the last of his family even though they would be separated again shortly.

 

Clarke had the opportunity to meet the young girl later that evening and was impressed by her genuine joy and exuberance. As she had admitted in the past, she still found it unusual to meet Azgeda who weren’t hard and uncompromising, but Rose was sweet and had the enthusiasm of a child who had grown up in a warm and loving environment. It made sense now that Aeir had left Nia’s circle when she was younger, she wasn’t like her mother at all and obviously had sought a life different from what she was raised in.

 

“She is understandably a bit nervous,” Aeir answered after a moment. “But I think she’s excited. Not as much as I am, but she will get there in time.”

 

“New experience?” Clarke prodded.

 

“Something like that,” she acknowledged taking a sip. “It will also mark the end of this part of my life.”

 

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked.

 

“Miki will be gone,” she said. “He is already in a way, but we’ll know for sure. At the end of the day he’s still our baby brother and the fact that Nia’s legacy marked him for death is a tragedy of its own.”

 

“I know,” Clarke nodded, looking grimly at Aeir. “Roan worries about it. He hasn’t said anything since Miki left for Azgeda, but I get the feeling that he blames himself.”

 

“Of course he does,” Aeir said with a shake of her dark head. “He blames himself for everything. Justified or not.”

 

“I’ve noticed that particular quality,” Clarke agreed, turning the page in her sketchpad and eyeing her sister-in-law. “May I?”

 

“Sure,” she laughed in reply, looking amused but unaffected. Aeir watched her for a moment and Clarke could tell there was something she wanted to say.

 

“You seem to know a lot about him even though you left home very early,” Clarke mused aloud, hoping to prod Aeir into speaking her mind.

 

“Roan hasn’t changed that much,” Aeir shook her head dismissively, but her eyes seemed a little sad. “If anything his guilt has only become heavier over time. It always wore on him.”

 

Clarke nodded, agreeing with the observation. From the first time she spent with him she could tell there was something he was trying to atone for, she had recognized what she herself was trying to hide after all. She had even pointed it out to him as she sat bound on the ground before him.

 

“He has never told you about the day he was marked as Azgeda, has he?” Aeir narrowed her eyes as Clarke shook her head. “Of course he hasn’t.”

 

“I admit I almost thought he had with the way he is with you,” the older woman continued and Clarke could only frown in confusion. Aeir stood and fetched a second goblet and the pitcher of mead and topped them both up before depositing one before Clarke and resuming her seat. This was apparently an involved story.

 

“Nia was always an exceptionally cruel woman and that day was one of the best examples of the lengths she would go to assert her own power,” Aeir said after taking a sip while Clarke continued to sketch. She had the feeling she needed to keep her hands busy.

 

“Roan was marked in the morning as the future heir of the Azgeda people in a large ceremony,” she continued a bitter smile contorting her features. “It was overly lavish and he hated it, but was too young to object to something both his parents wanted to celebrate. And the people did as well.”

 

Clarke tried to picture what Roan would have looked like at sixteen, as he had to take his place as the eldest of his siblings and a future leader of a large group of people, but found that the image was difficult to produce at best. She only knew the man the boy had grown into and he made it very hard to ever see him as anything less than what he now was. Though she could imagine he had worn that same stern mask he used in public from a very young age.

 

“At the feast to celebrate it that evening,” Aeir looked up at Clarke. “Nia ordered the execution of our father and presented a long list of ‘evidence’ that pertained to his treasonous activity. She saw her opportunity to seize the control she always wanted and took it, happy enough to use her own children as stepping-stones to the top. Her heir had finally come of age and that offered her protection. That was the type of mother she was to him. That was the ruthlessness she wanted to teach him. What she wanted to instill in him from the first possible moment.”

 

Clarke felt her cheeks cool as she paled, horrified at the story and the impact that would have had on Roan.

 

“He blamed himself for our father’s death after that,” Aeir shook her head sadly. “I believe that was the point. I’m not sure if he has ever stopped blaming himself for it. No one has been more hurt by that woman than my brother. Nia made sure to shatter his trust in others as often as she could, in a wide variety of ways from what I heard after I left.”

 

“When did you leave?” Clarke asked, voice quiet as she tried to understand. On the one hand she could, knowing she would always feel partially to blame for her own father’s death, even though she did nothing to affect it. But she could never understand what would make a woman so cruel to her own children.

 

“The day after my father’s execution,” Aeir replied. “I had to save myself from any more of her spite and her plans. I begged Roan to come with me, and did again every time he came to visit while I studied, but he refused every time.”

 

“Why?” It was one thing Clarke couldn’t understand. Why he would keep going back to face more abuse at the hands of a mother who so obviously didn’t care for her own children.

 

“Because even at sixteen he cared deeply for his people,” Aeir smiled softly, eyes on the darkening sky. “Nia never could turn that particular quality against him though she tried. He told me that someone had to look after those who weren’t strong enough to do so themselves. Not a particularly Azgedan quality as such, not during Nia’s rule at least, but the one that convinced me he was right to stay. As long as he was strong enough, our people would have someone looking after them, whether they knew it or not.”

 

Clarke didn’t know what to say about the story. It certainly gave her more insight into Roan’s past and his character, but it felt like a violation of his privacy. Something that he should have told her himself, rather than have it exposed without his knowledge.

 

“I’m confident he would tell you about this if you asked,” Aeir said watching the conflict in Clarke’s expression, her tone meant to reassure the young queen. “But you wouldn’t have known to. And I think it will help you understand why he didn’t tell you that Miki and I were coming here to Polis. There is so much history between us, and he knew Miki would likely be just like Nia.”

 

“He told me he was protecting me,” Clarke said but frowned. “That he didn’t want me forming impressions of you based on what I knew of him.”

 

“And he was right to,” Aeir acknowledged. “And I think he may have been protecting himself as well. If you had seen anything of Roan in Miki not only would his words have cut deeper, but you would have hurt Roan as well. He has done his best to keep himself removed from Nia’s hate his whole life. Seeing Miki as he is now is all the evidence Roan needs to justify that he has chosen the right path.”

 

“But I see a lot of similarities between you and Roan,” Clarke argued, turning the stick of charcoal in her fingers. “And that is not a bad thing.”

 

“No,” Aeir acknowledged with a smile. “But I would rather you base your opinion of me on what you see too. I suppose we all want to live out of the shadow of our family.”

 

“I do,” Clarke remarked as she focused on the pad in her hands once more and sketched the soft lines of Aeir’s jaw. And she did understand the desire to be your own individual entity, removed from your parents and your station in life. She had fought her own name since she became aware of how it affected how others on the Ark saw her mother when they looked at Clarke.

 

“I don’t want you to take what I’m about to say the wrong way,” Aeir started as she narrowed her eyes.

 

“That’s always a great way to ensure the person does, I’ve always found,” Clarke countered with a smile, but raised her brows to indicate Aeir should continue.

 

“I never imagined he’d open himself up to anyone,” she said slowly, holding Clarke’s gaze. “Not anymore. And certainly not someone like you.”

 

“I’m guessing I should wait until you clarify your opinion before I give in to righteous anger at that statement,” Clarke said as her fingers tightened around the charcoal.

 

“You are young,” Aeir continued. “So much softer and kinder than any of the women he has had in his life before. You believe in the good in people. That they deserve to be saved when most simply do not. Maybe that’s precisely why though. He sees what he always wanted to be in you.”

 

“He is kind,” Clarke argued, feeling her hackles rise in his defense. “This whole truce was his idea. He had faith that he could unify the clans when no one else did. I didn’t think it was possible even when I agreed to the plan.”

 

“Perhaps,” Aeir nodded with a smile having noticed Clarke’s irritation. “But I think you make him see that he can be the king he wanted to be, not the one Nia tried to make him into. And for that, I am grateful.”

 

“He is a great king,” Clarke agreed. “And soon everyone else will see it.”

 

“They already do,” Aeir shrugged again, too casual for the weight of the topic being discussed. “There were a few factions of Azgeda who had planned a revolt, that is why I pushed so hard to get here early. It’s why I kept Rose hidden until I knew she would be safe in Polis. I wanted to warn Roan, maybe convince him to change strategy, or imprison the ones I knew would be trouble. All without letting Miki know that I had heard about it.”

 

“But by the time I arrived,” she shook her head, eyes watching the shadows of the sunset dance across the room. “It seemed enough of them had started to see the wisdom in what he is trying to do. What he is trying to create.”

 

“That is a very big change for a people who have been known for their love of war,” Clarke said with some disbelief.

 

“Azgeda have no love for war, it has just been a necessary part of our survival,” Aeir argued firmly. “We had to fight each other for every last scrap of food many winters and that aggression naturally spilled over toward the other clans. People must be proud of the things they excel at, and unfortunately for us, that has been brutality and war. Nia encouraged it, as did our Grandfather. But many of our people had no desire to kill and steal to survive. We weren’t conquerors. We just want to survive.”

 

“And Roan has shown Azgeda a better way,” Clarke said with a small smile.

 

“You have both shown us a better way,” Aeir amended. “What you did today showed the people who doubted you still that Skaikru truly want to save us all. It may have been just enough to keep the peace.”

 

“I couldn’t send children to their death,” Clarke argued softly, not quite seeing the far-reaching consequences of her actions in the same way.

 

“Many could have,” Aeir said casually, but her eyes were as sharp as always. “Most would have. But not you.”

 

“I did what I thought was right,” she said shaking her head, trying to refocus on the lines of Aeir’s nose to replicate it perfectly.

 

“It was right,” she nodded. “And Roan knows as much.”

 

“Maybe,” Clarke sighed, her fingers moving over to work on Aeir’s sharp eyes, so like her older brother’s. “He should be back soon. He’s helping load the last of the wagons for transport.”

 

Aeir allowed her to move the conversation away from the topic at hand, but the glitter in her pale eyes suggested she was well aware of what Clarke was trying to do. Talk turned to lighter matters then, to her last conversation with Abby who would be leaving from Arkadia tomorrow to settle in Beta with the others.

 

Abby and Marcus had left Polis yesterday afternoon and Clarke could admit the thought of not seeing her mother again for half a decade tore a little at her heart. She had silently cried herself to sleep and could admit that she was going to miss her terribly. Regardless of what they had gone through, she would still want to talk to her and a video link would just not be the same. But it was a small sacrifice to make in the scheme of things. At least they would live to meet again.

 

Clarke finished the portrait in silence and Aeir seemed content with simply existing in the moment, letting the story she told settle in Clarke’s mind. As darkness fell and Roan still hadn’t returned she invited Aeir to stay for dinner, asking Sagua to find Rose so she could join them. Clarke managed to sketch a portrait of the young girl as well, carefully tucking both pages away in her trunk to give to Roan once they were in the bunker.

 

*~*~*

 

An hour after Aeir and Rose left a warning siren rang out warning people to stay inside for fear of black rain. The poison rain bore down on the tower as a hard smattering on the windows and the wind pushed hard against them leaving Clarke to worry that Roan would not return that evening. More and more storm fronts had started to cause problems. Black rain had become a constant issue and often left people stranded indoors until it passed.

 

Clarke walked up to the windows to peer out into the night. There were heavy clouds in the sky, lightening illuminating the surroundings in sickly yellow light. It wasn’t the usual crisp flash of bright white light that split the clouds and awed her with its intensity. The wind howled around the eaves of the balcony and Clarke shivered a little watching the violent weather. She knew Roan wouldn’t stay out for the sake of avoiding her and she hoped he was riding out the storm in safety.

 

She sighed and moved back to her sketchpad and curled up under one of the furs on the small sofa in the corner. She let her fingers flow idly over the page, not thinking about the lines, but feeling her way through the movements as she thought about how much Roan had come to mean to her. She was starting to look forward to the time in the bunker when they would be safer than they were right now. When they would have time to explore what was slowly growing between them. Her feelings for him had left the realm of friendship and shifted into something more. It wasn’t love, she was still reluctant to admit anything close to it, but it wasn’t far removed from it.

 

Looking down at the pad in her lap she found the intricate web of Roan’s scarred wings spread out before her and she smiled softly. She knew she had done the right thing standing up for Cherno’s daughter and hoped Roan understood why she had to. A prickle of hope in her chest told her he did, or he would have stayed firm in his banishment. She yawned and rested her head against the back of the sofa, closing her eyes for just a moment exhausted after a long and emotional day.

 

*~*~*

 

Her eyes opened wide as she heard the door to their chambers open, though it was hard to do so with the howling wind that shook the panes of glass. She sat up abruptly, spilling pencils on the floor as she looked over to the dark figure that entered. Her relief was palpable as she recognized the slow prowl she had come to associate with her husband.

 

“Roan,” she exclaimed, standing and making her way quickly over to him.

 

He looked worn and tired, and his clothes were damp which caused her concern. She scanned her eyes over him quickly, assessing him for any damage but he looked to be physically intact.

 

“Where have you been?” she asked, scanning his face, ensuring there were no telltale burns or boils from the black rain. His eyes were soft but distant.

 

“We were caught up by the storm moving the last of the supplies into the wagons,” he explained, a flash of lightening making the sharp angles of his face stand out in harsh contrast. “It’s only raining now, though it doesn’t sound like it.”

 

“I was worried,” she admitted softly, barely hearing her own voice over the crack of thunder.

 

“You don’t need to worry over me,” Roan said dismissively, unbuckling the scabbard and belt around his waist before pulling off his jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair. He stretched his arms over his head, a flash of hard abdominals drawing Clarke’s gaze. She moved back to sit on the edge of the bed, giving him the space he seemed to want as he hung up his wet clothing.

 

Clarke frowned at him as he pulled the shirt over his head and off, she was having trouble understanding if he was avoiding her or just exhausted. It was the middle of the night and he had been moving supplies with his men to prepare for the first group’s departure to the bunkers tomorrow. His words caught up with her fretting mind and she stilled.

 

“I think that’s part of my duties,” Clarke remarked when Roan came back to where she was perched on the edge of their bed. “I’m you’re wife. It’s kind of in the job description.”

 

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her, before turning to sit beside her on the bed, pulling off his boots. Clarke tucked a leg under herself and turned to face him. He lined his boots up at the edge of the bed as usual and stilled. His head was bowed slightly and he was looking at his hands.

 

“I’m still not convinced we made the right decision today, Clarke,” he said finally, leaning forward and running his hands through his hair, loosening it from the ponytail that held it in place. “Your trust in Biala is a risk I’m not sure we can afford.”

 

“I don’t agree,” she said, shaking her head. “She doesn’t have anything to gain by taking the children with her. And they looked terrified. Children aren’t that good at deception.”

 

“Some are,” he sighed heavily. “And she also has nothing to lose. It could easily be a diversion tactic.”

 

Clarke didn’t know what to say to that, but she knew what she felt and she was going to trust her gut on this. She couldn’t kill any more children. There were too many faces and tiny bodies that haunted her nightmares as it was.

 

“Allowing them a place in the lottery doesn’t give them anything,” Clarke said, running a hand along his spine. “It’s public knowledge and we are already expecting there to be problems once the names are announced.”

 

She traced the lines over his back and he straightened to look at her.

 

“Showing no compassion at all was the wrong choice,” she said with determination. “I will stand by that. They have as much chance as any of the other children now.”

 

“You cannot spare their lives to balance the ones you took before,” he said solemnly and Clarke’s breath caught. She felt exposed as he hit the exact nerve he needed to with deadly precision.

 

“I know,” she said softly. “But I cannot stand by and kill them either. Even indirectly or if it means you’re angry. This is what I swore I would do. Protect them all.”

 

“I’m not angry, Clarke,” he said and brushed a stray curl behind her ear. She leaned her cheek into his hard palm as it lingered to cup her cheek.

 

“I’m worried,” he admitted. “Everything will come to a head soon and there will be risks and conflict from that. It’s inevitable.”

 

“We’ll do our best,” Clarke slid closer, seeking the warmth of his bare skin, the storm still raging hard against the windows.

 

“You certainly will,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and abruptly pulled her backwards onto the bed and close to his side. “You are kinder than you ought to be to people who do not deserve it. I’m not sure if it makes you weak.”

 

“Caring opens you up to more pain,” she said, running a hand down his chest, watching his belly rise and fall with steady breaths. “And I’m not going to judge who deserves kindness. Everyone is fighting just to get through. Some harder than others.”

 

“Your compassion may get you killed one day,” he murmured against her hair and Clarke smiled at the note of worry in his tone. Worry for her.

 

“My compassion is part of the reason I married you,” she whispered, watching the flickering light around the room.

 

“And is that something you regret?” The question was barely loud enough to be heard above the thunder, but she felt its vibration through his chest and watched his belly expand with his breath as he held it.

 

She raised her head from his shoulder, staring down at him, his eyes dark in the low light. She traced a finger between his brows, soothing the frown, before she slid it down the tip of his nose. She watched its path as she traced his full lips, smiling at the rough tickle of his beard against her sensitive fingertip. He parted his lips and sucked her finger into his mouth, and she sucked in a breath. He swirled his tongue around the tip lazily and her body flushed and pulled closer as it happily remembered what he was capable of doing with that particular muscle.

 

“Are you always going to need reassurance?” she asked with a smile, echoing his own words back at him. His lips twitched but his eyes remained solemn. He released her fingertip with a soft pop.

 

“I’m not a good man, Clarke,” he said and she frowned. “I live with a lot of regrets and a lot of blood on my hands. More than I should have. I suspect I have more years on you than your confidence and experience had me believe initially. I have done too little good in my life to be cared for by someone like you.”

 

“I’m not innocent,” she argued. “And I’m not sure if you’re implying you have an issue with our age difference.”

 

“No,” he acknowledged. “But you still have hope. And you still have compassion. Sometimes you remind me that you are still very young.”

 

“Your sister said that too,” Clarke frowned, hoping she didn’t come off as childish or naïve.

 

“When did you speak with my sister?” Roan asked, curious.

 

“She came by this afternoon,” she hesitated slightly before drawing another breath. “She told me about your marking ceremony. And your father.”

 

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes shifted toward the ceiling. Clarke could tell by his reaction that it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, at least not now, but she felt she needed to tell him that she knew. If someone else were to tell him about Finn she would want to know, about being the one who killed the first boy she loved. It wasn’t the same, but though she didn’t regret her new knowledge and certainly didn’t seek it out behind his back, it was his to share. She didn’t want to break his trust in any way.

 

“You still have hope and compassion,” she insisted quietly when he hadn’t spoken. “You didn’t have to give Biala a chance today, you didn’t even have to let her speak. You have believed more in this alliance working than I have. Than anyone has. We wouldn’t be where we are today without your belief that we can have something better than war and fighting. You listened and believed me when you had every reason to turn me away. More than once. I may not have grown up in Azgeda, but I have seen enough in eighteen years to know what cruelty people are capable of.”

 

He stared up at her silently, twisting a lock of her hair idly through his fingers. She had never asked him how old he was, but she had assumed he was in his early thirties at most. Life on the ground, especially in the harsh winters of Azgeda, was hard on people and she found it difficult to pinpoint anyone’s age. But she had never once given it a thought before and had grown quite used to the idea that he probably had scars older than her.

 

“Roan, you are a good man,” she insisted, waiting until his eyes had settled back on hers once more. “A good and fair leader to our people. And I will never regret marrying you or anything else between us. You are more than I thought I would ever deserve and I would make the same choices that led us here if I had to start all over again.”

 

She leaned down, kissing him softly as she let her words hang in the air around them. She felt strangely elated that he had shared his fears and insecurities and she wanted to treasure the trust he had given her. His hands came up to cup her face, and she slid her leg over his hips so she could straddle him needing to be as close to him as possible.

 

They undressed slowly, mapping each patch of new skin revealed with soft touches and warm lips. As the storm raged in fury outside, the windows shuddering under the onslaught and the wind wailing around the tower, they quietly explored each other. When he slid inside her she gripped him tightly, keeping his body flush against her own, eyes open and holding his.

 

They moved in unison and crept toward release, mouths busy with each other, breaths shared and ragged between their warm bodies. Clarke dug one hand into the thick furs below her, the other gripping the back of Roan’s head, grabbing a handful of thick, dark hair as she climbed higher and higher. His breath was soft and hot against her throat as he slid a hand between their bodies, rubbing quick circles over her clit with his calloused fingers and Clarke felt her body shatter into pieces around him. She moaned as she pressed herself against his chest, her muscles clamping down around him as he gently rocked into her, drawing out the waves of pleasure.

 

Once she had slowed below him he captured her lips again and thrust deeply into her, a few long, hard strokes before he found his own release with a deep groan vibrating through his chest and into hers. He held still above her, kissing her slowly as he cradled her face in his hands and Clarke felt tears prickle behind her closed lids. Roan slipped out of her and pulled her into his side, holding her close as his breathing evened out into sleep.

 

Clarke joined him soon after, her breaths slow and steady, the scent of sunshine and rich warm earth surrounding her. As she clung to the last vestiges of consciousness she realized that for the first time she had made love to her husband and she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just taken them so freaking long to get to this point! <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really flattered by the response to the last chapter. It really does feel like I was a bit justified in how much I personally liked it :)
> 
> So by the looks of things the story will have 25 chapters plus an epilogue. Because I've been pretty motivated to post and since I had so much written already, I'm closing in on the end of my fully finished chapters pretty soon. But I have a couple of nights next week where I should be able to buckle down and have a good go at finishing off the last few bits that I'm trying to sort through. So depending on how that works out, I will either update once a week after chapter 19/20 or I will update as I finish the chapters. I'm not writing them in order because of reasons but I will try and keep things steady as much as I can for you. 
> 
> So that's a boring me update, I'm still knee-deep in moving organisation and boxes which is about as fun as it sounds. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Clarke looked over the lists on the table before her. They had finalized the last of the supplies and the wagons had been packed, ready to be sent out to the bunkers when the people were selected four days from now. There was now ten days left before praimfaya and she couldn’t shake the strain over her shoulders or the tension of the stress induced headache as she double and triple checked the last list.

 

“I think we’re good,” she said to Octavia who leaned against the table idly. “The Polis bunker is stocked and the wagons will leave the day after tomorrow to Alpha and Beta. The last chosen will come on foot in four days.”

 

Octavia nodded solemnly, and fidgeted with the knife in her hands.

 

“How are you doing?” Clarke asked, sensing her friend’s unease. It wasn’t surprising. Everyone was on edge these days.

 

“Great,” she said with a shake of her head. “Bell’s driving me nuts with his constant hovering. Wants me to hide away in the bunker already. Even Ilian finally gets that I can take care of myself.”

 

“You two are getting along well then?” the blonde shot her friend a discrete look, enough to catch the small frown.

 

“Well enough,” Octavia replied and the subject was obviously closed. Ilian seemed a good fit for her in Clarke’s limited experience of the Trishana Kru man. He was kind and had a calm way about him that reminded her enough about Lincoln without being obvious. He didn’t seem to be pushing her into anything, giving Octavia the time and space to come to him. Maybe once Octavia was ready to move on and open herself up again, her heart would be safe.

 

There was a knock at the door and Saugua entered, face drawn in a deep frown.

 

“Biala kom Ingranrona Kru to see you, azplana,” he announced, concerned. He stood still while Clarke straightened, curious as to what Biala may want.

 

“Let her in,” Clarke requested and exchanged a look with Octavia.

 

The young girl was led in and Saugua looked reluctant to leave. He eyed the teenager with overt suspicion before looking to Clarke.

 

“I have checked her for weapons, azplana,” he said gruffly. “And I will be just outside the doors.”

 

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled at the older man, wanting to roll her eyes at the overt protectiveness, but tried to remind herself that though Biala was young, she was still unknown. “Octavia is armed.”

 

He nodded once, exchanging a look with the Skairipa, which seemed to comfort him enough to leave the room without another word. Octavia had been taking full advantage of her growing circle of warrior associates and trained with Azgeda after Roan brought her down for a few sparring sessions. Clarke straightened and turned to the guest.

 

Biala stood before her, determination straightening her spine. Clarke gestured for her to sit at the table but the girl shook her head.

 

“There is a plan to overthrow the second bunker,” she stated plainly without preamble and Clarke frowned. “When the lottery winners are transported, a group of warriors from the remaining clans who broke the alliance, some who still object to it, and along with some not selected for survival will follow them and take it by force.”

 

“How did you hear about this?” Clarke asked, attempting to keep her expression neutral as she evaluated the information. If it was true, they had a potential war on their hands and only a few days left until the death wave hit.

 

“I admit I may have allowed some of my former clan to believe I came here for the wrong reasons,” Biala answered, eyes shining defiantly. “It was the only way they would let me leave and give the children a chance.”

 

“How do I know if you’re telling the truth to me now?” she asked, and felt Octavia shift beside her.

 

“I will swear a blood allegiance to you and ask for nothing in return,” Biala straightened her back, a flash of desperation in her eyes. “Apart from the children’s ability to remain in the lottery.”

 

“What about your own place?” Clarke asked.

 

“I will forfeit it,” she said. “I would have given it to one of the younger ones if I had won.”

 

Clarke paused, watching the red-haired girl. It didn’t appear that she was lying, and if she was willing to give up her own place in return for the children, it would seem as if she was self-sacrificing enough. But that may all be a part of her plan. It seemed she had been holding back information from the beginning. Though Clarke wanted to believe the best of the world, she knew that treachery existed, and many now were desperate to survive.

 

But she had also seen the way the children huddled around the young girl, clinging desperately to her. In the days since she had come to Polis, Clarke had watched her and the odd little group closely. The children relied on Biala and she was gentle and patient with each and every one of them. When they seemed out of sorts she told them stories and played games, anything to keep their minds off the world around them. Her love for them was genuine; it was just a question of if her intentions toward the Coalition were.

 

“Do you think Ingranroa Kru and the others will be unable to overthrow the bunker?” Octavia asked, and Clarke glanced over at her friend.

 

“No, I believe they could be successful,” Biala answered without hesitation or emotion. “They have enough warriors and they have the element of surprise. If they took prisoners they would gain entry and assure compliance.”

 

“If you kept this to yourself, you would all have spots in the second bunker,” Clarke said, shaking her head. She was trying to see what angle the girl was trying to play, but came up short. Biala seemed too genuine in her wish to prevent the attack.

 

“Yes,” Biala answered, though Clarke hadn’t asked a question. “But they would slaughter your people because they hate Skaikru, and no one in the bunker would survive. Not only do they lack honour, they lack the intelligence to understand what needs to be done to survive. I want to a better world that that for the future.”

 

Clarke leaned back in her chair, feeling a heavy weight drop onto her shoulders. It seemed there would be hurdles to overcome until the very end. The lottery was scheduled in four days, the transport in five. There were safeguards in place to transport the additional people safely, but depending on how many members of the rebel clans were in on the attack, it would be difficult to defend them all. They were prioritizing children and youths and they were not experienced warriors.

 

“How much do you know about what they are planning to do?” the blonde asked, knowing it was time to call for Roan. He had a better head for strategy and he would need to go over everything in detail either way.

 

“I know where they are planning on waiting for the chosen, when they will be in place, and who their leaders are,” she stated plainly, a little wariness bleeding into her expression.

 

“What don’t you know?” Octavia asked, eyes narrowed. Clarke found she was extremely grateful Octavia had happened to be visiting that afternoon.  

 

“I don’t know where the leaders and warriors are now,” Biala said confidently. “Nor which of the warriors in Polis have allied with them and what the extent of their arsenal or numbers.”

 

Clarke rose from her seat at the table and moved toward the balcony to check if Roan and Tyko were still in the training yard. Spotting a familiar dark head, she called for Saugua to fetch him immediately. Octavia was still watching the teenager closely, but there was a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes. She could empathize. If this information was correct, they owed her spots in the bunker. Maybe this was what she hoped for from the beginning.

 

“Why wait until now to tell us?” Clarke asked returning to the centre of the room.

 

“I wasn’t able to get exact details until now,” Biala answered, frowning. “I tried to speak to the one of the leaders after I arrived, but none would speak with me. I didn’t want to come until I had enough detail to actually assist you.”

 

Clarke didn’t know what to make of the information. If it was true and there was a plot to overthrow the bunker they needed to get the people on their way immediately to hopefully prevent any violence and the lottery would have to be moved. If this was a ruse to get sympathy from her or the Coalition, guaranteeing her spots in one of the bunkers it seemed too complicated. There would be too many factors that would need changing and she still failed to see what advantage Biala would gain from forewarning them. Maybe it was the primary bunker they planned to overthrow, but even then they would now be prepared for something to happen.

 

“Clarke?” Roan strode purposefully into the room, halting when he saw Octavia and Biala. He eyed the two young women before walking over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder and searching her eyes, obviously the guard had informed him the matter was urgent.

 

“Biala has some information she thought we should know,” she answered the question swimming in the sky-blue eyes. “There is a plan to attack the transport of the last survivors to the second bunker.”

 

Roan looked over at Biala sharply, the hand on her shoulder squeezing tight. He was silent for a long moment, and the young girl wavered a little under the scrutiny, but she didn’t falter.

 

“Tell me everything you know,” he said, gesturing to Tyko to enter who still stood in the doorway. Clarke grabbed the front of his vest, pulling him closer so she could speak quietly. This close to him she was distracted by the sharp smell of sun, dirt, and sweat that clung to him. He smelled warm and safe.

 

“She is only asking for the children to stay in the lottery in return,” she said, her lips close to his ear. “She has forfeited her own position. For what it’s worth, I think I believe her.”

 

He nodded once already deep in thought, dropping a kiss on her forehead before moving to where the group was waiting. When Clarke met Octavia’s eyes and saw the smirk on her lips she realized it was the first time Roan had shown such open affection for her in the company of others and she blushed.

 

Biala recounted all the information she had already revealed, and expanded on it as Roan and Tyko asked more detailed questions. By the time they were through they knew that the dissenters were mainly from Ingranrona Kru, Azgeda and Ouskejon Kru which didn’t appear to surprise either man. They had a list of names and potential locations of where they could be hiding out. When the girl was finished, he looked her over, scratching at his chin.

 

“If they approach you again, listen carefully and come directly to me,” he ordered and the girl bowed her head in acknowledgment. “Until then, say nothing of this to anyone else.”

 

She turned to leave, knowing she was dismissed but pulled up short as he spoke again.

 

“Thank you, Biala. You are an honor to your people,” Roan said and there was a flicker of pride that straightened the girl’s spine as she turned back to the room.

 

“I have no people I wish to acknowledge, haihefa,” she argued, but she still stood straight and tall. “None beyond the children who I care for.”

 

“You are part of our people,” Roan corrected gently and Biala nodded and hurried her steps from the chamber.

 

“What do we do now?” Clarke asked as soon as they were alone. “We can’t move everyone knowing we are being set up for an ambush.”

 

“We fight,” Roan answered, and Clarke shook her head. “It is the only way. We may be able to find some of their leaders and sympathizers but we do not have enough time before the wagons are set to leave.”

 

“Unless we move everyone tonight,” Octavia said. “We draw the names that will accompany the convoy to the each of the other bunkers today, and you leave now.”

 

“We cannot leave Polis unguarded,” Roan pointed out but did not outright dismiss the idea.

 

“I’m not suggesting you do, we go ahead as if the lottery is happening as normal, but the positions for the other two bunkers will already have been drawn. We have enough warriors to protect the bunker here,” Octavia continued and Tyko nodded, apparently agreeing.

 

“And how do you propose we do this without arousing suspicion?” the king asked. “Hundreds of people leaving the capitol days before the drawing of the names would be less than inconspicuous.”

 

“We wait to collect them until after dark,” Tyko said. “Have the carriages ready an hours walk outside of Polis and bring them out in small groups.”

 

“We do not have the resources to keep this quiet,” Roan pointed out. “We cannot rely on any guard who is not already guaranteed a spot in a bunker.”

 

“But we have one hundred Skaikru, fifty Trikru, and two hundred Azgeda who do,” Clarke said. “They aren’t all warriors, but even if only half of them would agree to get the selected people and show them to the carriages it could be done.”

 

“That is another three hundred and fifty people that may say something without meaning to,” Roan pointed out. “It is a big risk.”

 

“It’s all we’ve got,” Clarke insisted. “And we can start by asking those we know will agree, and those who can help ten people each, that drops the number of people who know dramatically.”

 

“I don’t see it working,” Roan shook his head with resignation. “And leaving in the middle of the night will make travel much slower. The risk is too great for any of the children who are going with us and it does nothing to guarantee that the attack is prevented. They could have word sent the following morning and still manage to organise their attack.”

 

“We have to do something,” Clarke sighed. “We can’t just wait to be attacked.”

 

“We could still hold the lottery early,” Roan mused. “Hold it in secret tonight at a special summit and collect the families in the morning. It will allow us to seal off the Polis bunker before we leave as well, guaranteeing their safety. We also need to speak to Alpha and Beta and organise a guard to meet up with the groups as well as a defense of the entry points.”

 

“And you trust all the members of the summit to keep it quiet?” Octavia asked, shaking her head.

 

“We can draw the names in the morning,” Clarke suggested, keeping the idea rolling as they dismissed each option. “It’s the only way. It also gives us the night to find out if any of the known dissenters are here and can potentially be apprehended. There will still be chaos. People are expecting another three days.”

 

“It can’t be helped,” Roan looked resigned. He ran a hand through his beard as he looked over at Clarke with heavy eyes.  They had yet another hurdle to jump before the end.

 

“I want to offer Biala and the children room in our bunker,” Octavia said, looking straight at Roan, daring him to object.

 

“You do not have the authority to do so,” Roan pointed out, not unkindly.

 

“But Bellamy does, and Indra,” she insisted. “They will support this.”

 

“If you get their approval and you give up the rights to eleven names, I will not oppose you,” Roan agreed. “They will need to be taken down tonight. Discreetly. They are probably being watched. We cannot risk anyone seeing them.”

 

Octavia nodded and made to stand.

 

“This does not leave this room,” the rumbling warning halted her and she glared at the king, insulted. “I trust you to keep your word, but be very wary of who can overhear anything you say. Tell only Bellamy and Indra about the children. Ilian if you need the support of another kru but you may speak on their behalf as well. And chose the guards fetching the children wisely.”

 

Octavia’s eyes softened slightly, and she nodded before leaving the room. Clarke looked at Tyko who looked troubled. There were a lot of things they had to rearrange now, a lot of carefully laid out plans that needed to be altered. There was a long night of planning ahead of them.

 

“Go clean up and have a meal and a rest,” Roan addressed his second. “Come back here in three hours and we will see about changing the transport arrangements. We will need to meet with the leaders of the clans of the main dissenters to get their assistance and approval to apprehend them immediately if we can. And we need to have a faultless plan to present in the morning.”

 

“Thank you, sire,” Tyko nodded, gathering his sword and scabbard. “I will request some water brought up for you.”

 

Roan nodded in thanks and leaned back in his chair. Clarke looked down at her hands, the weight of the day making her feel heavy and tired. They were so close they could taste victory, but there was apparently still time for a major problem to present itself.

 

“So you believe her?” she asked, eyeing Roan as he sat forward and had started tugging at the laces of his boots.

 

“She doesn’t have much to gain,” he said, but it wasn’t an outright yes or no answer. Clarke hadn’t expected one and found that she couldn’t say that she felt a definite answer either way herself. She leaned toward yes, but there was still too much room for doubt. The stakes in survival were so high.

 

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of hot water, and the two monarchs watched silently as the tub was filled with steaming water. Roan had kicked off his boots and shrugged out of his jacket but sat watching the preparations his mind elsewhere. Clarke realized that with the inevitable change of plans, this would be the last bath to be had in years and she itched to take it from her husband. Water was about to become a premium commodity in her life once more.

 

The water bearers left and closed the doors behind them. Clarke looked longingly at the steaming surface, but felt obligated to let Roan have it after a long and grueling day of preparations and training.

 

“Care to join me, Wanheda?” he asked, and she darted her eyes over to where he reclined casually, watching her covetous glances with a smile.

 

“I could be persuaded,” she teased and rose to walk toward him, fingers pulling at the buttons of her shirt.

 

“Of that I’m certain,” he laughed, tugging his shirt over his head. “Though I’m not sure it’ll be because of the bath or because I’ll be in it.”

 

Clarke grinned and yanked her shirt and bra off, hopping on one foot to tug off her boots as she advanced on the bath. She stumbled as she switched feet and giggled when a strong arm caught her around her middle. Roan pressed a kiss to her temple as she pulled the offending boot off, wobbling slightly but secure in his arms. His hands slipped down to the top of her pants, unbuttoning them and she wiggled her hips against him as he pulled them down to the top of her thighs.

 

He stopped to grab her chin and kiss her deeply and she continued to shimmy her hips, rubbing against him as she kicked out of her pants and underwear. She twisted in his arms; wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he leaned down to divest himself of the remainder of his clothes. He leaned down, scooping Clarke up into his arms and walked the last few steps to the tub.

 

He set her down in the water that was hot enough to make her hiss a little in reaction, but the overbearing heat soon gave way to blissful comfort and she kneeled down to submerge herself. Roan joined her, slipping in behind her back and slid his legs around the outside of her own. She leaned back into him, feeling his erection press against her lower back, but she wanted to take a little time to just enjoy the hot water and the firm body against her back.

 

Roan plucked at the band that held her hair away from her face, releasing her curls to fall over his shoulder as he pulled her firmly against him. He breathed out and she felt the vibration of a low moan in his chest as his tired muscles relaxed in the hot water.

 

“Comfortable?” she asked softly, running a hand down his forearm to interlace her fingers with his. She would take this moment, this pause in the coming rush of her life, and enjoy. Her own muscles started to relax a little and she realized just how tense the stress of the day had made her.

 

“Very,” he agreed, sliding his free hand into the water to settle around her waist. They stayed that way for some time, enjoying the feel of the water and each other.

 

“Let me wash your hair,” Roan said after a while, tugging at her waist to get her to wet her curls. Clarke happily complied and soon felt his strong fingers massaging shampoo through her long hair, the sensation causing an immediate reaction in her body. She always had a weakness for getting her hair washed and regretted that they hadn’t indulged in a shared bath before now. She moaned as he massaged along the base of her skull and she felt a twitch against her as his body reacted to the sound.

 

She leaned back and kept her eyes on his as he carefully rinsed the soapsuds out of her long hair, eyes wholly engaged on his task. When it was time to sit up they flickered up to hers and he pushed gently on her skull to help her. He massaged through oil used to soften and condition her hair, running his fingers through it to detangle it as he went. When she was sure he was finished she felt his fingers move from her wet curls to press into the muscles of her shoulders, seeking out the hard knots of tension and her head lolled forward, nose nearly touching the surface of the water. She clung to the edges of the tub as he ran sure fingers along her spine, pressing hard and releasing the tense muscles.

 

She arched her back when he leaned forward, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades. The movement caused her bum to push up against him and she squirmed wanting desperately to seek a little relief of another sort, but at the same time she wanted to care for him the way he had for her. She turned slowly, careful not to spill any water out and onto the floor and caught his face between her hands.

 

She held him firmly and kissed him slowly, his hands sliding down her spine and settling on her waist. She rocked forward instinctively, seeking friction, her nipples hardening as they brushed against his chest. She pulled herself away reluctantly and smiled down into his lust darkened eyes.

 

“Your turn, your majesty,” she smiled and he tried to capture her lips again, preferring a different type of caretaking.

 

“Your turn,” she pressed, leaning away from his lips, hand braced against his chest. He huffed, eyes dark and heavy on hers before turning around, pushing her back against the other end of the tub.

 

Clarke relished in the sight of his wide shoulders before her, skin flushed a light shade of pink from the heat of the bath, making the scars stand out more starkly. She grabbed the shampoo and massaged it into his scalp slowly, fingers pressing into the top of his neck as he groaned in pleasure. She slid her fingers down his shoulders, massing his back as he had hers, and pressing hard into each muscle that pulled tight. He was bracing himself against the sides of the tub as she reached his lower back, leaning forward and brushing her breasts against his back.

 

Roan turned abruptly, causing a small wave of water to slosh over the edge and ducked his head under the surface, rinsing out the shampoo. As he surfaced, flicking his hair out of eyes, he grabbed her around the waist, pulling her hips firmly over his own and sliding his straining member between her folds.

 

She ground down on him, the tip of his cock brushing against her clit and she leaned her forehead against his. A hand dug into her wet hair and Roan angled her head as he kissed her deeply, tangling his tongue with hers. His free hand ran from her shoulders, down her spine, to grip her hip, pulling her hard against himself. The warm water made her deliciously languid and she didn’t want to disturb too much water out of the tub for others to clean up, though she supposed it no longer mattered.

 

“I need to be inside you,” Roan whispered before biting gently on earlobe, voice deep and heavy with want. He thrust up against her, slipping wetly between their bodies, movements buoyed by the water.

 

Clarke reached between them, stroking him firmly before she positioned him at her entrance, moaning his name as she sank down on him. The water moved with her, sloshing up the sides of the tub and falling back in rippling waves against them. She kept her eyes on him as he leaned his head against the rim of the tub, guiding her hips with his large hands. They kept their movements in time with the motion of the water, slowly rocking higher and higher.

 

As she watched his eyes darken to deep blue-grey as his pupils dilated, Clarke arched back, palming her breasts and pinching her nipples. Roan watched her intently, lips parted as his breaths came in soft puffs. His dark hair was nearly black, hanging in wet strips around his face, eyes burning brightly at her. He looked every inch the warrior king, his scars pale against his flushed cheeks. The muscles in his chest flexed with each thrust and found her fingers itching to trace the ridges of the scars over his heart. He was beautiful.

 

She threw her head back, closing her eyes as she felt the burning coil of her impending orgasm tighten within in her, angling her hips so each stroke hit just right. The hands on her hips tightened before releasing her, to slide up her spine and she felt the press of his chest and released her breasts to rub against it. The new angle had her sinking deeper onto him and she felt herself coming closer and closer to that elusive crest.

 

“Come for me, Clarke,” Roan said, voice rasped next to her ear before he bit down on her neck. “I want to feel you fall apart around me.”

 

Clarke moaned and increased her pace, the water moving faster and breeching the top of the tub. A hand snaked between them and pinched her clit as he captured her mouth once more. She came moaning into his mouth, biting down on his lower lip until she tasted the distinctive coppery tang that accompanied blood. She immediately released his lip, but he didn’t seem to mind as he surged into her, tongue mapping the inside of her mouth. He gripped her hard as he emptied himself into her, the groan that accompanied his release vibrating through his chest.

 

His kiss eased from urgent to soothing, soft licks and nips as they came down and their frantic movements stopped. His arms still held her tightly, sliding to pull her hard against him. Clarke found herself pulling away slightly and panting against him, fingers grasping his hair tight, not quite willing to let too much space between them. She held on, forehead leaning against his as her breathing returned to normal and the water stilled around them once again, his rough fingers tracing erratic lines between her shoulders.

 

“That was quite a way to farewell the idea of having a bath for five years,” she joked, eyes still closed, the intensity of the moment still making her shake slightly. His low chuckle shook her body and warmed her heart. He stole a soft kiss before he pulled back from her and she shivered, the water having cooled significantly.

 

“Come on, my queen,” he said as he gently pulled out of her. He ran a soothing hand down her spine as he maneuvered himself to stand before her, reaching for the towels. They still had much to do and a long night ahead.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm at the point where I'm posting chapter 18... That's pretty incredible. 
> 
> I've had a rough week which seems to be the theme of RL at the moment, but that's ok. I am still hopeful that I'll get a chunk more written over the next few evenings and I have somehow added a good five pages to one chapter by accident this morning, so there's that. There may be more chapters coming than I thought. 
> 
> Thank you guys as always, and enjoy the next chapter :)

Clarke yawned widely as she strapped on her sword, mentally running through her checklist for the day. She eyed the open duffel bag on the bed, casting her eyes around the room to ensure that every last item that she had wanted to take with her to the bunker and underground for the foreseeable future was packed and ready to go. She glanced over to where the tub was still standing full of cold water from the night before. The sight was a shocking statement to the precipice they now stood on. The end of this world and the start of one hiding underground, and when those doors opened once again none of this would still be here. She shivered, already feeling the ghosts roaming the hallways of the future ruins of the Polis tower.

 

“Ready, Azplana?” Tyko asked as he came in, fully dressed and armed for what was promising to be a tumultuous day. He looked fierce, his amber eyes burning brightly at her from behind a face full of war paint. There would be no doubt they were preparing for war when they entered the throne room to speak to the ambassadors.

 

“As I’ll ever be,” she nodded and zipped up the bag, throwing it over one shoulder. Tyko looked solemnly at her and she felt the weight of what was about to happen in her bones. When she came to his side, he laid a large hand on her shoulder, a show of familiar solidarity he had not done previously and she managed to drag up a shaky smile for him.

 

They had spent hours going over what was going to happen this morning the previous evening. After having dinner, Tyko had joined them and had hammered out the plans for how they were going to move six hundred people as quickly as possible, three days before they expected to leave. The wagons had been packed and it was decided that the chosen survivors would be given thirty minutes to collect their belongings before they would move out, hopefully preventing the planned attack. The less time runners were allotted to get to where they were hiding, the less time they would have to assemble.

 

The summit would be held momentarily where they would draw names for each of the remaining spots in the bunkers. Baila and her gaggle of children had been hidden away the night before after Bellamy had come to personally confirm that they would take them in. Roan and Bellamy had gone to collect the children themselves along with Octavia and Tyko, not trusting anyone else to do it up to either man’s standard. Biala had broken down in grateful tears and hugged Clarke tight when she was informed that they had all been given their lives. It was the final piece that cemented her belief in the young girl.

 

The supply carriages had left at first light, preceding the people who would be joining up with the journey in a couple of hours. They had rerouted the carriages, and the journey would now take an extra day, but it was less likely they would be able to interfere with the transport, especially to the second bunker. Clarke hoped they would see some benefit from that and the change of plans. It was the best they could hope for.

 

They had hailed Alpha and Beta bunkers and arranged for an armed escort to meet the group at the halfway point. Roan and Tyko had discussed strategy with a few of the clan leaders who were already in place and the added security should aid in getting people in safely. She knew they had done everything they could at this point.

 

Clarke took a last look around as she paused by the doors to the room. She would never see this place again and it made her feel a little hollow. There were many memories in this room and though not all of them were happy, she wouldn’t change them for where they had brought her. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, the crown she wore settling heavily in her braided hair.

 

“We will build again, azplana,” Tyko said and she tried to smile up at the man. His eyes shone kindly down at her and she was happy that Roan had taken him on has his Second. He was a good and kind man and had started to become a good friend.

 

“You’re right,” she sighed. “Once more into the breach, my friend.”

 

She doubted Tyko understood the reference, but he seemed to share the ideology behind it. He led the way to where Roan waited outside the doors of the assembled Summit, speaking in quiet tones to Indra and Bellamy. It seemed that Trikru and Azgeda had finally buried the hatchet between them, at least for the time being. They turned as she approached and she smiled tightly.

 

“Ready?” she asked, eyes scanning the group.

 

“As we’ll ever be,” Bellamy said grimly. He held out his hand to Roan who shook it firmly, holding his gaze. Indra nodded and entered the hall leaving Roan and Clarke alone.

 

“This is it,” she whispered, wishing her heart would stop its frantic attempt at escaping her chest. She locked eyes with Roan and saw the same worry reflected in his behind the layers of war paint he too wore.

 

“We are ready,” he reassured her, lifting one her hands to his lips to drop a kiss on her fingers.

 

“Come what may,” she said and heard the successive pounds that signaled that they were ready for their entry.

 

The doors opened and she entered beside her husband, walking through the assembled ambassadors, head held high.

 

“There has been a confirmed report of a planned attack on Beta bunker by the remnants of Ingranrona kru and several others who would rather not take the honourable path for their people,” Roan began and there was a hum of discussion in the room.

 

“We have decided that the lottery for the last spots will be done today, in this room,” he announced, hand on the hilt of his sword as silence fell. “Each kru will bear responsibility to deliver the chosen within an hour to the rendezvous point for immediate travel.”

 

“But we were supposed to have three more days!” the Delfikru ambassador stood and exclaimed. “How will we take our people away from those who must remain?”

 

“Would it have been any easier three days from now?” Roan asked, and there was a buzz of reluctant agreement.

 

“If we delay any longer, we risk all their lives,” Clarke interjected and all eyes turned to her. “We risk everyone’s lives. If we move immediately there will be less chance for the dissenters to organize against us. It is what must be done so we can all survive.”

 

“We have discussed the altered plans with Alpha and Beta,” Roan added. “There will be warriors ready to defend what we have fought so hard to ensure for our survival.”

 

There were no more objections, though many of the ambassadors looked reluctant. Clarke knew what they were asking wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. They would take the time to grieve for those lost in a few days.

 

“But the names were supposed to be drawn publically,” the Trishana kru leader said, a resigned slump to her shoulders.  


“This is a better way,” Indra said firmly shaking her head. “There will be less chance of riot. Less people to control, less chance that someone will do something stupid to put us all at risk.”

 

“All agreed?” Roan asked, as a formality.

 

Ten heads nodded and two large chests were brought in and sat in the centre of the room. They began to draw the names of all the people who would survive. Clarke made an effort to listen to each name as it was called, knowing that though that person would survive, another would perish in their place.

 

They drew the names of four hundred young people and children and two hundred and fifty adults. The process took less time than Clarke had expected and soon the ambassadors were sent out to retrieve the chosen and bring them out to the rendezvous spot. There was a buzz of apprehension in the air and Clarke chewed nervously on her lip as the room cleared out. It was time.

 

*~*~*

 

The names had been drawn and the chosen were on their way to their salvation. Clarke stood in the square watching the last of the warrior contingent move out of Polis with a bittersweet smile. She didn’t know what the journey would bring but she hoped that the surprise of an early lottery draw would have been enough to thwart the plan. The horses for their own journey were being prepared as they would be joining up with the group and lagging behind on the last day to ensure that everything went to plan.

 

Clarke moved inside and stopped beside the entry to the Polis bunker, the last additions to the survivors there in place and the doors were ready to be sealed closed. She eyed the area warily; curious about whether it would be accessible if the buildings surrounding the area crumbled above them. They may need to dig out the survivors here when the time came. But there would be time to prepare for that eventuality. The time had come to say their goodbyes.

 

Clarke felt tears prickle behind her lids as she hugged Octavia tightly. Her embrace was returned with equal force and both were reluctant for the moment to end.

 

“Take care of yourself,” she whispered to the brunette. Clarke found she couldn't call up any more words in the moment without losing what little reign she had on her tears.

 

“May we meet again,” Octavia returned as she pulled back from Clarke, eyes glittering with the same emotion. Octavia nodded to Roan who stood behind Clarke.

 

“May we meet again,” Clarke said and turned to the elder Blake.

 

Bellamy looked down at her a little sadly, but there was life behind his dark eyes that didn't come from anger. It was a start. The years apart would hopefully heal what had broken between them.

 

“Stay alert and get to that bunker in once piece. I’m counting on you to mediate via videolink when necessary,” he said and opened his arms. She hugged him tightly as tears tracked down her cheeks when she lost the battle to keep them in.

 

“Be safe. Keep them safe,” she whispered to him, holding tight and breathing him in, not wanting to let him go. “You are an amazing person Bellamy and we’ll see each other soon.”

 

“May we meet again, princess,” he whispered hoarsely as he pulled back, smiling down at her cheekily but his eyes were a little glassy.

 

“May we meet again,” Clarke said, wiping at her cheeks as she turned to Roan. He was watching her closely, but moved forward to shake hands with Bellamy before she could fully read his expression.

 

“We will monitor the comms,” the younger man said. “We will call for help if we can.”

 

“Do not open these doors,” Roan said, eyes hard. Regardless of what happened with the transport, the Polis door needed to remain sealed, too many grieving people were left in the capitol, though they were currently quiet.

 

“We won’t,” Bellamy agreed firmly, before his eyes strayed to Clarke. “Take care of her for us.”

 

“May we meet again,” Roan nodded, letting go of Bellamy’s hand and offering the Skaikru parting phrase.

 

“May we meet again,” Bellamy returned, his shoulders relaxing.

 

“Seal the bunker,” the king commanded and the Blake siblings stepped back behind the doors. Clarke watched until it grated shut, the echo of the metal hollow in the concrete corridor.

 

“Let’s move,” Roan ordered, eyes locked with Clarke and they quickly made their way back to the surface. His eyes were bright and alert, ready for the next battle.

 

There was a sense of unease above the ground and their accompanying guards were looking around warily. The danger was very real now and Clarke wanted to be out of Polis as quickly as possible. The group of chosen survivors had a few hours on them, but they had vehicles and horses, giving them the ability to cover ground much more quickly.

 

Clarke reached her mount and gently stroked the horse’s muzzle. She whinnied softly and shifted anxiously, sensing the tension in the riders.

 

“It’s alright,” Clarke murmured, scratching the beautiful horse behind the ears. She heard the truck start up and quickly mounted the horse, looking over at her husband.

 

“We ride hard, catch the chosen and provide extra cover,” he said and she nodded, already familiar with the plan.

 

They spurred the horses into a lazy trot, following the vehicles out of the gates of Polis. As soon as they had cleared the main gate, they kicked into high gear, spurring the horses to increase their pace, anxious to see how the group was faring.

 

*~*~*

 

They caught up with the survivors a few hours into their ride and though the people were anxious, there had been no indication that they were being followed. The groups would split before dawn, not stopping to make camp to reduce the time on the road. There were a couple of large empty wagons for the children to rest on, pulled by large draft horses that they knew would be able to push through until they reached their destination. Clarke felt the nervous churning of her belly as she looked up at the sky. It was well past midnight and she was exhausted, having barely slept the night before.

 

“We will be stopping for a rest in an hour, Wanheda,” Roan said, frowning at her.

 

Obviously she looked as tired as she was, but she nodded, keeping her eyes up on the sky above them. It was littered with stars and she smiled softly to herself, trying to memorize the thousands of tiny pinpricks that she had never been without. Some of her first memories were of looking out into the vast emptiness of space, reassured by the tiny burning lights that danced galaxies away. It gave her hope there was more out there somewhere. She never would have guessed she would have found it on earth all those years ago.

 

“I’m going to miss the stars,” she said quietly, trying to keep her eyes open though her body desperately wanted to give in to sleep. “I’ve never lived without them.”

 

“You will see them again,” he said looking up at them too before looking back over at her. “Your friends too.”

 

“I know,” she acknowledged and looked over at him. “You’re not going to miss them?”

 

“No,” he said after a pause, his eyes straying to her temples and her heart thumped hard in her chest. “I have my own.”

 

*~*~*

 

They split from the second bunker group just after dawn and things were looking promising. The large group took a couple of hours to rest before they split and Clarke had slept the whole two hours, resting near Roan as he watched over his people. She felt a little refreshed and as they pressed on through the afternoon she started to hope that they were finally in the clear. Without further rest stops, they were now only a couple of hours from their destination if they kept a moderate pace.

 

Twilight had started to fall and the alpha bunker’s chosen had pushed ahead, the royal party and a small group of seasoned warriors falling behind to ensure that every last person was safe. They had stopped to put a bit more distance between themselves and the group and to release the horses, unable to care for them in the bunker as much as Clarke had wanted to. She was running her hands down her mare’s muzzle as a heartfelt farewell when she heard the snap of a twig in the trees ahead.

 

Her eyes shot to her left where Tyko was unfastening the reigns from his horse and she hissed lowly at him, alerting him to the sound, but he was already looking in the same direction. He nodded once, and ducked down beside the horse, scanning their surroundings. Clarke craned her neck seeking out her husband and finding him drawing his sword, eyes scanning the tree line. The air crackled with tension, but their warriors were ready.

 

A group of at least twenty men burst out of the trees just as they alerted the group, screaming in rage and challenge. This was the attack they had waited for, or at least a smaller version of it. It seemed simultaneously less and more than she had anticipated as Tyko fell in beside her and she drew her own weapons. She had her sword and a pistol Bellamy had insisted she keep on hand and she was thankful for it now. She may be able to pick off a few of the oncoming group before they got too close if she was lucky.

 

Their groups were not evenly matched in number; Clarke knew they had fewer warriors, having opted to protect the larger group rather than themselves. But the warriors they had with them were some of the strongest so she had faith they could hold their own. And they had the vehicles if nothing else. She saw the two drivers duck up into position at a signal from their group, ready to flee if necessary.

 

They came together in a violent clash of bodies and Clarke hung back, knowing her strength didn’t lie in close combat and she didn’t want to pose any additional risk to her people. She watched closely and raised her pistol, aiming carefully at one of the men who had hung back from the group, breathing slowly and aiming at his head. ‘Kill shots only’ echoed through her mind in Bellamy’s voice as she pulled the trigger, the ricochet kicking her arm back, as startling every time, but by some miracle the man falls on the first shot.

 

The eyes of some of the attacking group flicker over to her and the fighting begins in earnest. Tyko and Willow fall in closer to her, obviously tasked to protect her above anything else.

 

Clarke finds another man standing back and aims for his chest, not expecting to make a successful head shot twice. The chest is a larger target and two shots into his centre body mass fells him as well. Two men move toward her and Tyko and Willow suddenly have their hands full protecting the young queen. She holsters her gun and grips the hilt of her sword instead, preparing to meet anyone who breaks through the line before her.

 

The trio moves toward the rover to give them a bit of added protection against their backs. She’s sure they want to throw her in the back, but there is no way she is sitting idly by watching the others fight when there is something she can do to help. The warriors battle fiercely around her and she glances over the heads of the people closest, searching for Roan to make sure he was safe. She spots him fighting back to back with the Trikru warrior that had accompanied them, Indra’s youngest son Vali who had requested a spot in Alpha. They were surrounded by a group of four warriors, but seemed to be holding their own against them but the fighting was fierce.

 

Clarke pointed Tyko in their direction.

 

“Go!” She commanded but he shook his head at her.

 

“King’s orders,” he shrugged, but she pulls firmly on his arm.

 

“And I’m your queen and I order you to help them,” she continued but he looked conflicted. “I have my gun, I’ve already taken down two. Willow and I will be fine.”

 

There was a yell from the side where Roan fought and Tyko looked over, concerned.

 

“Go!” Clarke pushed him away and with a parting glance he joined his king as more of their enemy sensed a potential advantage.

 

Clarke looked back at Willow and drew her gun once again as another warrior noticed the commotion and turned towards them. He ran at them and Clarke didn’t think before pulling the trigger, two shots to the center of his chest. He fell like a stone before them, dead before he hit the ground. Willow busied herself with another man while Clarke faced the other direction, keeping all exposed angles covered.

 

Thunder rumbled menacingly in the sky above and she felt a bolt of fear run through her. Of all the times for a storm to build it would have to be now. Black rain would be the perfect addition to the final fight she thought bitterly before sweeping her eyes over the group.

 

Many of the attackers were dead on the ground, and she noticed that a few of their own were wounded and retreating back closer to the truck and rover. They seemed to be making headway and the other side was tiring but they had nothing left to loose. They would have to kill every last opponent. Tyko had reached Roan and the trio was dispatching the group around them. It didn’t take long before the tall warrior was running back to where Clarke waited.

 

“They are weakening,” he said as he took up position on her right flank, pounding on the back of the Rover in command and it rumbled to life. He whipped his head around as four men approached and Clarke drew her sword.

 

Willow stepped forward with Tyko, taking the point, but three of the men ensured they were busy enough to let a fourth slip past and Clarke clenched her teeth readying for a fight. There were too many of her own people nearby to risk shooting him so it was time to put her sword skills to the test.

 

“Time to die, Wanheda,” her attacker sneered at her, baring his teeth. His face was smeared in mud and blood and he limped slightly in the soft ground. He had already taken a decent hit giving her a much-needed advantage.

 

She didn't waste a moment before advancing on him, hoping her bravado would surprise him. It did and he faltered slightly, slow to bring his sword up to meet her first thrust. The lightness of her blade made it easier to move quickly and she used it to her advantage as she circled him. He moved his sword arm in a long arc, bearing the blade down on her shoulder and she ducked under his arm, turning quickly and moving back a step to find a good place to strike.

 

“I didn’t expect you’d have any skill at this,” her opponent sneered and ice flowed through her veins as she realized who he was, making her hesitate long enough to allow him to block her forward thrust.

 

“Miki,” she gasped, taking a step back in shock.

 

“At least you’re smarter than I thought,” Miki acknowledged, a cold smile making his teeth stand out stark and white against the dark smudges on his face. He looked feral and dangerous, madness glittering in his eyes.

 

He pushed toward her again, slipping a little on the damp and muddy ground but Clarke couldn’t find it in herself to do anything more than defend against his attack. She knew it was stupid, but she didn’t want to be the one to kill the younger boy and started sorting through her knowledge of where to injure but not kill, making a swipe at his injured leg at the next opportunity.

 

He roared in pain and thrust his own sword forward, catching her upper arm and the searing pain of the blade made her drop her own. Miki was struggling to put weight on his injured leg, but his eyes lit up triumphantly when he saw her clutching at her bleeding arm and backing toward the Rover. Clarke was rapidly running out of options. She reached for her pistol, changing it to her less dominant hand, knowing that trying to aim well enough, even at a short distance would be hard.

 

“At least I get to avenge my mother a little before the end,” Miki smiled and raised his sword, making to advance on Clarke as she raised her shaking weapon. She had almost depressed the trigger when a look of shock crossed Miki’s features and he looked down to where a blade was protruding out of his chest. He fell face forward in the mud, revealing Willow to Clarke’s relief.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke whispered, knowing the warrior couldn’t hear her, but the sentiment was obviously clear enough as she nodded and pulled her blade out of Miki’s body. Clarke watched him as his nerves twitched in automatic response and felt sick as Roan’s youngest sibling faced the same fate as his mother in a sense of twisted irony.

 

Clarke glanced around at the last fighters as she picked up her sword from the ground, flexing her arm and hoping to push through the pain, a flash of light signaling an imminent storm. More thunder roared through the sky and she knew it would be on them soon. The wind whipped wildly around them already, dulling the sounds of fighting and the groans of dying men. Willow limped closer to Clarke, wavering on her feet and obviously injured but still pressing on with determined scowl on her face.

 

Darkness had fallen quickly and Clarke looked up to the sky, watching a bold streak of light stream across the heavy clouds. The sickly sulpherous yellow caused dread to rise up with the bile in her throat. Black rain. She shouted a warning as the first drops fell, Tyko and Willow looking up and toward the Rover.

 

“Get in,” Tyko shouted but Clarke shook her head, eyes casting around for Roan and found him facing a tall, burly man whom she had assumed was one of the leaders of the raiding party. They were battling fiercely, swords making long sweeping arcs and a clap of thunder echoed the crash of steel. She knew better than to call out, but she refused to leave him behind.

 

“Azplana,” Willow urged, pulling on her arm, backing her to the vehicle. There were bodies strewn around her and she recognized the pale curls of one of the Azgeda guards lying face down in the mud. But it seemed they had won the day.

 

“We cannot leave the king behind,” she cried as she was forced backwards.

 

“Our orders are to see to your safety first,” Tyko stated, confirming her earlier suspicions as he hauled her through the doors at the back of the car, effectively throwing her in the back and following her in. Willow was slumped against the wall of the Rover, and Clarke looked over at her in alarm, but another crack of thunder had her attention back outside once more.   
  
“No,” she gasped, launching herself forward as the Rover’s engine roared to life. The rain was starting to come down harder, and she felt the burn from the acid on the exposed parts of her body and saw the others inside hastily pouring water over any exposed bits of skin. At least they’d had the foresight to bring two large barrels of fresh water with them in each vehicle.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tyko sighed, holding her back, and she strained to look out the open doors. She had to think quickly, if they had to protect her, they wouldn’t leave without her. She nodded and relaxed against the grip on her arms, and though Tyko looked at her suspiciously, he backed away, reaching for a cup of water to rinse her face.

 

“Here, azplana,” he started and that was when she launched out the still open door in the back and into the pouring rain. She covered her eyes, keeping as much of it off her face as possible and ran toward where Roan had been. In a flash she saw the shape of a man standing over a body on the ground, but it was too dark to make out whom it was. But when he turned to look over at where the Rover was, she knew it was Roan.

 

“Roan!” she screamed, sprinting toward where he fell onto his knees, obviously injured. She reached his side, the acid burning her skin and scalp where it touched.

 

“Clarke,” he breathed out in agony as she fell to her knees beside him. “Get in the Rover.”

 

“Not without you,” she said, maneuvering as best she could under his shoulder. His leather jacket was heavy and made the task difficult.

 

“Leave me and save yourself, Wanheda,” he insisted, trying to pull himself from her grasp, but the movement obviously hurt immensely as he quickly crossed an arm over his chest.

 

“Not a chance,” she said, pulling with all her might to put his arm over her shoulder, she braced her feet against the slippery ground and using every last bit of adrenaline fueled strength pushed them both to their feet.

 

“Keep your head down, they are coming back for us,” she said over the roar of the storm.

 

“Clarke,” he pleaded with her, making her heart seize in her chest. “You only have a chance without me.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said as she saw the Rover approach them at a rather alarming rate, Tyko and Vali standing at the open doors. “I only have a chance _with_ you.”

 

She hauled him along slowly and the Rover stopped a couple of steps away.

 

“Get ready to pull him in!” She yelled over the storm, and two arms readily reached out and grabbed the king under one arm each, hauling him bodily into the truck. Clarke was shaking in exertion and pain as she pulled herself through the door and she heard them slam behind her. The truck was following closely, filled to capacity with the remaining warriors.

 

“Go, go, go!” she yelled, crawling over to where they had laid Roan down on his back. She cast her eyes around for the fresh water and towels, and carefully poured the water over his eyes, allowing it to run down the sides of his face, clearing the skin around them as best as she could. His face was red, small blisters forming on his cheekbones, but she hoped the water would slow the irritation. She poured another measure of water over his face carefully, clearing his eyes and cheeks thoroughly.

 

“How is Willow faring?” Clarke asked, casting an eye over to where her guard sat in the corner, Sagua apparently speaking to her in low tones and pressing hard against her abdomen.

 

“Sagua is doing what he can,” Tyko said grimly, and Clarke could already tell her friend may be a lost cause. They needed to get to Alpha.

 

“If we get to the bunker, we can help them, but we need to get these clothes off,” she said as Tyko looked at her, holding out the towels.

 

She started pulling at the clasps of Roan’s clothing and two guards quickly started helping her. Her injured arm made her fingers clumsy but she would work one-handed if she had to. When they wrestled him out of his jacket she discovered a large gash on his chest, reaching from just below his left nipple, curving down to end over his hip.

 

Tyko sucked in a breath as blood welled up in the exposed wound. She asked him to tear his shirt off and strip it off him to expose the wound entirely. Clarke struggled to get out of her own leather jacket, and felt strong hands pull her out.

 

“Thanks,” she shot over her shoulder at Vali who had helped her. He nodded solemnly before dropping his eyes to the king.

 

“It looks deeper than it is for most of it,” she murmured as she ran her fingers around the edge. “Pass me the medical kit and I will do my best to stop the bleeding. Rinse off as much of the rain as you can, pour an entire barrel over him if you need to and keep as much of it out of the wound as possible. Then soak his lower half, I doubt he’s had any exposure on his legs, so that will have to do for now.”

 

Roan groaned deeply and she softly shushed him as she pressed her hand to his chest over his heart. He sighed but didn’t appear to be conscious and she thanked the gods above for small mercies. She peeled her soaked shirt over her head as the medical kit was placed beside her.

 

“Can you rinse this shit off,” she threw the question over her shoulder and Vali quickly nodded, pouring a measure of fresh water over her back where the prickling burn was starting to become unbearable. He tugged on her hair and she angled her head back, feeling it flow through her locks and the sharp prickling in her scalp finally started to ebb. She took the offered cloth and wiped at her face. Holding her hands out she let him pour water over her arms and hands. It would have to do.

 

“Thank you,” she muttered and ripped open the medical kit, searching for what she would need. She placed thick gauze pads along the line of the wound after pouring a healthy dose of antiseptic over it. They would have to clean and stitch it properly once they were safe. She pressed down on the gauze, running it down the length of the gash to clear the worst of the blood. She added a new layer of gauze and pressed softly down on it before adding a second layer.

 

“Put pressure here,” she looked to Vali who obeyed immediately. “We have to sit him up so I can wrap it tightly, but you have to maintain pressure as best as you can.”

 

The six warriors in the back were quick to scramble to help their queen, and soon Roan was being held upright, with Clarke wrapping wide bands of wound dressing tightly around his torso from armpit to bellybutton. Once she was satisfied she laid down a thermal blanket to keep him off the wet metal and keep his core temperature more stable. She nodded and they laid him back down. Clarke ran critical eyes over his body, noting the burns on his face and scalp but they had cleaned off as much of the rain as they could.

 

“How long?” she asked Simon, the Skaikru mechanic who was driving the Rover.

 

“Fifteen? Maybe twenty?” he answered, eyes focused on keeping them on the road, driving faster than he should have.

 

“Radio ahead to Raven and tell her we’re coming and what to expect,” she instructed, looking out to the sky. “Do you think it’s stopped at the bunker?”

 

“Hard to say,” he shook his head. “But I’ll ask.”

 

“Thank you,” she sighed and sat back on her haunches. She looked back to the corner where Willow and Sagua sat, and the woman was still conscious so Clarke hoped for the best.

 

“Azplana,” Vali said, shaking a bottle of water at her. “Have you covered everything?”

 

“Don’t worry about me,” she smiled at the guard before leaning over her husband only to stop when a hand closed around her arm.

 

“You will let me wrap this for you or I will hold you down to do it,” Tyko practically growled at her as he pulled on her wrist, twisting her arm to reveal her own injury. The gash on her arm was deeper than she had realized and there was a dark river of blood pouring down her arm faster than she was comfortable with from a medical standpoint.

 

She didn’t dare say anything and nodded at him, the angry glint of his eyes softening as she allowed him to wrap gauze tightly around her arm to stem the bleeding. When he had finished and was satisfied he nodded and she turned back to where Roan lay.

 

His breathing was steady, but shallow, and he had started to shiver. She hoped he wasn’t going into shock but watched him closely, holding one of his hands between her own until they reached the bunker. The drive was bumpy and seemed to stretch into eternity but soon they were slowing down, the entry to Alpha bunker not far ahead.

 

The rain had stopped by the time they arrived and there were people waiting to help them as they pulled up to the entrance. Tyko was shouting instructions as he leapt from the back of the Rover, clearing the way for the king’s transport. Willow was put on a second stretcher and brought in immediately after. Anyone else who was injured would be attended to in triage. They would be locking and sealing the doors as soon as the last person was through and by the sounds that would have to be within the next ten minutes.

 

Roan was moved immediately from the back of the Rover to the medical facility where Doctor Michaels was already set up and ready to treat him. Clarke rushed after them, not paying attention to the people gathered around watching horrified. The only thing that mattered to her now was that they got Roan to the clinic and made sure he made it through. She couldn’t do this without him.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke sighed as she sank down on one of the beds in the infirmary. She had been forcibly removed from the room as they worked on the king, assuring her that he would be well taken care of and that she needed to rest so she they could use her blood as a transfusion if necessary to heal some of the damage from the radiation. One of the medics had cleaned and sutured the cut on her arm and sent her to shower off.

 

She had showered off, the water turning red and brown in turn as the blood and grime flowed off her limbs. Raven had come with a fresh set of clothes for her and was waiting when she came out, scrubbed pink and clean and finally warm. Her friend watched her from a chair set beside the bed.

 

“The bunker is sealed?” Clarke asked Raven as she pulled on the clothes she had brought.

 

“Yeah,” Raven replied with a nod. “Tyko and I saw to it ourselves. We’re locked in tight. One of the farm station crew practically begged to go out and grab a sample he had missed due to the rain, but Tyko held firm. The poor kid was shaking after the dressing down, but he’s worried there will be more fighters on their way, that you somehow only caught the first wave. We haven’t heard how Beta fared yet. No sense in any added risk when the others had worked out our location.”

 

“How is Willow?” Clarke asked and saw the change in Raven’s eyes as she frowned.

 

“She didn’t make it,” Raven said softly. “Doctor Michaels said it was a miracle she was still alive by the time you got here. She had lost too much blood. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

 

Clarke nodded and her shoulders drooped. She was exhausted, but her worry for Roan was churning inside her chest, making her jittery and restless, and grief for her fallen friend burned in her heart. She was desperate to see him, but knew she shouldn’t be in the room. She couldn’t do anything to help them.

 

“He’ll be alright, Clarke,” she said, reaching up to hold her hand seeing right through her friend.

 

“You don’t know that,” she sighed, the relief with being in the bunker clashing violently against the panic that she may still lose the one person she had come to rely on, to see as an integral part of herself. She sank onto the bed dressed in fresh soft clothes.

 

“He’ll fight for you,” Raven said, sitting down next to her and folding her into a warm hug. “He’d be an idiot not do.”

 

Clarke let the tears come then and sobbed into her friends shoulder, shaking and exhausted from the day. She didn’t know how long she cried, Raven making nonsensical soothing noises, stroking her back as she held her and eventually shifted onto the bed so they were lying down together. It could have been minutes or hours later when Clarke felt the last shred of energy leave her body and slipped into unconsciousness.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kind words. They have really made my day. You're all just amazing. 
> 
> I'm posting this a little earlier than I had planned to, mainly because it's looking a little busy tomorrow for me when I had planned on posting this and I may not be able to spend a lot of time on the internet over the next few days because when it rains it pours as they say. 
> 
> So enjoy!

Clarke woke up hours later, Raven long gone. Her friend had left a note behind instructing Clarke to let her know if she needed anything at all to get someone to come and grab her. Raven would step in and help watch over the bunker until Clarke was ready to step back in. Clarke felt the heavy numbness of exhaustion still pull at her limbs where she lay in bed, but looked over to her left and saw Roan lying in the bed beside her, the soft steady beeping of his heart rate monitor a soothing balm to her nerves. His face was still red and angry, but it looked like he had fared better than she hoped. She struggled to try and sit up, but she flopped back again, exhausted. She closed her eyes again, taking a few deep breaths.

 

“I see you’re awake,” Doctor Michaels said from the doorway and she looked over at him sharply. He looked tired and she assumed he had seen to their care personally after the king’s surgery.

 

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, her throat raw and sore, and the doctor approached, pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher beside her bed.

 

“About ten hours,” he replied to her surprise, sitting down next to her bed and handing the glass to her. She drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing her throat.

 

“How is he?” Clarke asked, eyes on her husband. It was a strange sight to see him so vulnerable and pale.

 

“The wound he sustained was shallow for the most part, but I’m concerned about the length of it,” the doctor said, eyes straying over to where the king lay. “I repaired his abdominal wall in two areas, reinserted a portion of his intestines, but there was no damage to any of his organs. He will have to take it easy for a few weeks after he wakes up so he doesn’t herniate or tear any of the stitches.”

 

“Does he need a transfusion?” she asked, feeling a little of her panic ease at his words.

 

“At this stage it doesn’t look likely,” he said. “You did a great job getting the worst of the rain off his skin and though there is some blistering, there doesn’t appear to be any extensive damage. I’ve given him a dose of anti-radiation compound that he has already started responding to. His vitals are all within the normal range and he’s remained stable since we stitched him up. He’s breathing well and he’s not febrile. He will probably remain unconscious for the next few hours, if not more. The longer, the better.”

 

Clarke sat up slowly feeling a little light-headed. She was surprised she had slept as long as she had and through the noise they must have made when Roan was brought in beside her, but with how tired she still was it had probably been necessary.

 

“What about the others?” she asked and the doctor sighed.

 

“You were told about Willow,” he said slowly and Clarke nodded. “She had sustained a stab wound to the abdomen, it had torn through one of the major arteries and she bled out within minutes once she was in the clinic. I have no explanation for how she remained conscious for as long as she did.”

 

Clarke nodded sadly, knowing that Willow had been one of the strongest and most resourceful warriors in the royal guard. She was proud to call the woman a friend and hoped she had found rest wherever she now was.

 

“Achebe’s right hand was severed,” Doctor Micheals continued. “We didn’t have the severed limb so there was nothing we could do in that regard, and it would have been doubtful we could have reattached it either way. We will see about developing a prostetic, but the amputation of the remaining tissue was a success.”

 

“Apart from that,” Doctor Michaels shrugged and tried to hide a yawn. “It was mainly treatment of shallow wounds similar to yours and ensuring that there was no permanent damage from the rain.”

 

“Thank you for everything,” Clarke said eyeing the doctor critically. “You look like you need to go get some rest yourself.”

 

“I plan on it. As should you, Clarke,” Doctor Michaels admonished, frowning at her. “You need time to heal as well. Your nightblood does seem to have made a difference however. You haven’t received any further treatment.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” she said, shaking her head and swinging her legs around to get off the bed. She stood, a little shaky on her legs but took the few steps to collapse into the chair next to Roan’s bed.

 

“You need to eat, if nothing else,” the doctor said, knowing arguing with the young blonde was useless. “I’ll have some food brought to you. If you eat and do your best to rest, I won’t demand you get back into bed. And someone will be checking in on you constantly. I’ll be by in a few hours to check on your progress.”

 

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile as Doctor Michaels left the room, leaving her alone with Roan.

 

He looked paler than normal, the striking scars around his temples nearly fading into his skin, his dark hair and beard standing out in stark contrast. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept against the crisp white linens. He wouldn’t wake up any time soon. Maybe not for half a day as his body purged itself of the radiation and healed the wounds he sustained but she was already impatient.

 

A bowl of hot soup and some cheese and bread were brought in for her and she ate in silence going over the events of the day. She shuddered to think that they had nearly lost everything at the very last minute. She would need to speak to Tyko and Raven and ensure that there was some ability left for them to communicate with the other bunkers, especially if there was still a risk they would be destroyed in the death wave that was set to hit a few days from now. She finished her meal and she pulled her chair up right next to the bed.

 

She leaned forward, putting her head down next to his on the bed while staying seated in the chair. His usual clean, warm smell had been overridden by the bite of antiseptic and antibiotic ointment and she found tears gathering once more. She touched his cheek softly, running her fingers down his face gently.

 

She knew she loved him. It had been slowly growing between them for a while, steadily gaining footing in her battered heart and filling up the cracks left by Lexa and Finn and the almost-something with Bellamy. Losing him was not an option. Not when she had only just realized how she felt and how much she needed him. Whether he returned those feelings or not didn’t matter to her.

 

Clarke felt more like the person she wanted to be around him and that was more than anyone had given her before. She wove her fingers through his and hated how cold they were, but the weight of his hand in her own offered her a measure of comfort. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, searching for the scent of sunshine and warm leather. She was asleep before she realized it.

 

*~*~*

 

She came to awareness slowly, her arm tingling from being pulled in one direction too long and her neck sore from where she had held her body at an awkward angle. She opened her eyes, blinking in the soft white light and recalled the last few hours prior to her nap.

 

“You’re awake,” Nancy, the clinic nurse said. She was one of the medics they had on staff in addition to Doctor Michaels and a few trainees and Clarke herself. She was tapping through the menus of Roan’s vital signs and making notes on her tablet.

 

“How is he?” she asked immediately, rubbing the back of her neck and rolling her head on her shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles.

 

“No change,” she said as she checked his vitals on the small screen. “He’s stable but unconscious. But that’s not a bad thing. It means he’s taking the time his body needs to heal.”

 

Clarke sighed but smiled at Nancy. She was a pretty young brunette, with wide-set green eyes that were almost always smiling. She worked tirelessly and had a calm and soothing bedside manner which was why she had been tasked the Presidential bunker, knowing some of Azgeda’s most hardened warriors would be in it as part of Roan’s guard.

 

She carefully extracted her fingers, straightening her spine and groaned as the true extent of her exhausted and battered body made its displeasure known. She had taken a few hits to her body during the fighting and felt her muscles protest in agony.

 

“How long was I asleep this time?” Clarke asked, glancing around to try and find a clock, though she realized she had no idea what the time was the first time she woke.

 

“A few hours actually,” Nancy answered, glancing her way. “I was going to ask for help moving you into bed, but at the same time I wanted you to get the rest you needed.”

 

Clarke nodded, equal parts grateful she had been allowed to stay close to Roan, but her body was protesting the position she had chosen to sleep in.

 

“Do you need anything, Clarke?” the brunette asked, with a soft frown. “Anything for the pain? I want to check your brands and stitches when you have time. Make sure they're not worse off after exposure to the black rain.”

 

“No, thank you,” she said and Nancy nodded, still frowning. “Is there anything to drink?”

 

“Sure thing,” she said cheerily, smiling as if she had a secret. “Raven brought you this, said there was only one person you’re allowed to share it with.”

 

She opened a small cupboard and pulled out a dark green thermos and handed it to Clarke. She also grabbed a pitcher of water and a couple of glasses and set them on the table beside the bed. She placed a couple of white tablets in Clarke’s palm with a firm look.

 

“Pain reliever and an anti-inflammatory. It will help with your back and the muscle aches. Let me know when you’re ready,” she said, pointing to her own temples. “Or if sleeping beauty wakes up.”

 

Clarke popped the pills in her mouth and chased them down with a full glass of water. Nancy nodded and picked her tablet up from the bottom of the king’s bed. As the nurse left them alone once more Clarke twisted the cap off the thermos and peered in. The rich smell of chocolate filled the air and she couldn’t resist the giggle of delight at her friend’s thoughtfulness, and probable theft from the kitchen.

 

“I’d say I’ve been rewarded in the afterlife to hear you laugh like that,” Roan’s rough voice rasped slowly, catching slightly on his inhale. “But the pain would suggest otherwise.”

 

“Roan!” Clarke exclaimed, hastily replacing the lid and placing the thermos on the ground. She found him peering out at her, eyes a pale grey-blue in the artificial light. His breath caught and he coughed heavily, face contorting with pain as his muscles flexed against his recent incision.

 

“I was a fool to think you’d ever do as you’re told,” he said after a short coughing fit. She reached for a glass and pitcher, pouring out a measure of water and bringing it to his lips. He tried to reach for it, but his hand shook badly enough when he raised it that he reconsidered, allowing her to hold it in place as he drank deeply.

 

“I would never leave you behind to die,” she said softly, the familiar fist of fear closing around her throat.

 

“It would seem not,” he said with a painful sigh. He scratched at his side briefly and she reached to take his hand. Now that he was awake and seemingly relatively whole, she faltered in her assertion to immediately tell him how she felt about him.

 

“How are you feeling?” she asked instead, stroking the back of his hand gently. He opened his eyes and glared at her, making her grin. He never was one to tolerate stupid questions.

 

“I take it the bunker is sealed?” he asked instead of answering, looking around the infirmary, eyes flicking up to the small screen that tracked his vitals and to the saline drip in his arm.

 

“Sealed up tight,” Clarke confirmed. “Everyone is in, but we lost three to the raiders and Achebe lost a hand.”

 

“It could have been worse,” he said, shifting on the bed unable to get comfortable.

 

“Miki was one of the attackers,” Clarke added, watching him carefully but all he did was sigh in resignation. “Willow killed him. She saved my life. She was one of the ones we lost.”

 

“I thought I saw him,” Roan said softly. “But some part of me was hoping I was seeing things.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke squeezed his fingers and his eyes shifted back to her.

 

“There is nothing to be said. He was lost to us long ago,” he acknowledged sadly. “Willow will be missed. She was a very skilled warrior. She would have been proud to die in your service.”

 

“I was starting to count her as a friend,” Clarke said, tears prickling again in her eyes and Roan tightened his fingers around her hand. “I didn’t want her to die for me.”

 

“It was a good death,” Roan said, but the words did little to reassure her. “She was very proud the day I asked her to be your personal guard. Saw it as a privilege to be a part of the changes we were bringing to our people.”

 

“Even more reason her death is tragic,” Clarke mumbled, feeling guilt eat a little at her though she knew logically it wasn’t her fault the young woman was dead.

 

“All death is tragic,” Roan amended and she looked over at him with sad eyes. She knew he was right. She had also known they would likely lose people on their way to safety. As much as Willow’s death hurt, there was at least one that would have hurt her much more and she was lucky that he was here and healing.

 

“Are you planning on sharing that?” he broke eye contact and looked down to where the thermos sat on the floor between her feet.

 

“How long have you been awake?” she asked but reached for the thermos. “And what makes you think Raven meant you?”

 

He scoffed and a long bout of coughing was punishment enough. Clarke poured a measure of the dark brown liquid into the cup and held it up to his lips. The hot liquid would soothe his throat and the sugar would give him a bit of energy, so Clarke figured it could be loosely seen as medicinal. He kept his eyes on hers as he drank slowly, moving his hand to lay it on her thigh.

 

“I have to disagree,” he said, eyes glittering after she pulled the now empty cup away from him to refill it for herself. She frowned in question, confused.

 

“It’s not the best thing I’ve had in my mouth,” he finished, his voice rasping impossibly lower. He grinned widely and chuckled softly when Clarke felt herself flush in a combination of surprised embarrassment and arousal.

 

“I think it’s time to let Nancy know you’re awake, your highness,” she shook her head as she sipped from her cup, but the smile wouldn’t leave her face for the rest of the day.

 

*~*~*

 

“We owe your son a debt, Indra,” Clarke said warmly as she relayed details of the fight from the day before. “Without him we would have taken heavier losses and he stayed at Roan’s side throughout the whole attack. He brought you and your clan great honor yesterday.”

 

Indra’s eyes lit up and her spine straightened as she nodded into the screen, not speaking but obviously very proud of the news she was brought. Octavia smiled widely beside her and grasped her forearm. Clarke smiled at the display and let her eyes drift back to the others.

 

“We lost three warriors and sustained a few larger injuries but a few were relatively unharmed and Roan is recovering well,” Clarke finished eyes on Aeir who stood behind Abby and Kane. The relief that washed over her features was hidden quickly, but the smile she turned on the screen was brilliant.

 

“Please send him our best,” Marcus Kane said and his expression was serious as he stared into the monitor, eye contact just a little off as a result but Clarke smiled.

 

It seemed the attack on them had been a last ditch attempt at retribution as the warriors sent out from Beta bunker had dispatched a group of nearly fifty men before the Chosen had come through. Everyone had made it safely and the bunkers were all sealed. Polis had experienced some disturbances outside the entry to the bunker, but there was not much that could be done about it. It seemed that the few dissenters had started to give up hope they would be able to break in.

 

A small group of fighters had attempted to break through Alpha’s bunker door a few hours after they had initially sealed it, but had disappeared again a while ago, presumably to find another way in or gather more supplies to aid them. Clarke hoped it was neither, and they accepted the inevitable, but they were monitoring their surroundings carefully. Both Raven and Tyko doubted they would find a way inside given the short time left which offered a little reassurance.

 

“So Polis will be hit in approximately twenty hours,” Raven said now that the major incident report had been delivered. “I hate to say it, but we’re lucky you had to move early, with the change in the jet stream and the wave gathering speed it would have been chaotic to get you all here so quickly. We couldn’t have waited the three days to draw names. We’ll know if we still have communication with you immediately. I’ll be up monitoring everything and I will attempt to hail you until I know for sure. We will be hit four hours after Polis and Beta an hour after us.”

 

“And if the systems fail?” Bellamy asked at the same time as Abby.

 

“Then we will talk to you in five years,” Clarke said sadly with a small shake of her head. “Raven will be sending through the final rescue plans to you in a couple of hours. It doesn’t seem like there’s much chance of either Alpha or Beta bunker having issues getting out again. We have two possible exits each, but Polis may have some problems. There’s only the one exit and there is infrastructure over it, so we hope it won’t be buried in the fallout. But if it comes to that, we will come and dig you out.”

 

Bellamy nodded, glancing over at Indra who had been listening intently. There was a whispered conversation between the Trikru leader and Octavia but it seemed unimportant for the rest.

 

“Well, we all made it,” Marcus said with a weary sigh, glancing over at Abby. The worst was over but the hard work had only just begun.

 

“Now we work on keeping the peace,” Clarke agreed with a nod. “Siku has prepared a survival list for winter that we’ll send out with Raven’s plans. He’s the best survivalist and tracker Azgeda has and we’ve managed to transcribe as much as we can of what he pointed out as essential just in case anything happens.”

 

“Thank you,” Abby said with a tight smile. There was still the chance that one or all of the bunkers wouldn’t hold and that they would be on their own to try and survive the world. But everyone on the video-link knew this and the weight and worry of the next few hours was shared between them all. They were as prepared as they could be, now they would have to hope it would all hold, and then do their best to keep everyone happy for the next few years.

 

There wasn’t much left for Clarke to say and she was anxious to get back to Roan. He was recovering well, but not accustomed to being told to stay in bed and was threatening the clinic staff and Tyko who had volunteered to keep him entertained. She was going to ask them to move him to their quarters and she would care for him there, they had earned a few days of rest.

 

“Well, this isn’t goodbye,” Clarke said with a soft smile at her mother and friends. She had had enough goodbyes of late and refused to believe this was anything more than see you soon.

 

“No, it’s not,” Abby agreed. “We are happy to see you’re safe.”

 

“May we meet again,” Marcus smiled at her, and everyone echoed the sentiment.

 

“May we meet again,” Clarke said and smiled sadly, rising to leave the room. She would spend the night in the clinic with Roan and then hopefully move into their suite the next morning.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke swiped the keycard through the slot and keyed in a short series of numbers to unlock the door to the presidential suite in the bunker. She opened the door and walked in to hold it wide for the men behind her. Roan entered, steps slow and halting, but he had insisted on walking himself from the infirmary. Tyko and Saugua came in behind the king, who wavered on his feet as soon as the door clicked shut behind them.  
  
“You’ve made your point,” Clarke said, voice hard. “Help him to the bed, please.”

 

“Yes, azplana,” Tyko said and kept his eyes resolutely on the floor to avoid Roan’s death glare as he dragged his arm over his shoulder and practically carried him the last few steps to the bed.

 

“If you’ve ripped even a single stitch you’re not leaving this room for a month,” Clarke grumbled as she followed them, watching Roan’s face, pale and sweaty from the effort it took to get down here.

 

“I’d like to see you try and keep that threat,” Roan rumbled, but winced as he laid back, the fight already draining out of him. Clarke grabbed the extra blanket and folded it behind him so he could sit partially upright in the wide bed. She knew he’d want to stay alert until he’d had a chance to properly look around the room.

 

“I will come down with dinner as per instruction in four hours,” Tyko said as he stood up after seeing to the king’s comfort. “I will update you on the state of the clans while you eat, if that is your desire, heihefa.”

 

“That will be fine,” Clarke agreed, cutting off her husband when he looked ready to argue. He needed rest, and she wanted a few moments alone with him. Roan chose to maintain his glare, but nodded and the two Azgeda warriors quickly departed the suite.

 

He looked around the room and Clarke did the same. She had been surprised when she first opened the door. She hadn’t explored the living quarters when they had discovered the bunker and hadn’t given much thought to where their quarters had been assigned. As king and queen of the Coalition, the presidential suite naturally went to them, though Clarke had wanted to argue at the summit meeting.

 

Octavia had been the one to step in just before the meeting, reminding her quietly that as monarchs they were expected to have the best accommodation. Even if it meant having more space than two people would require when so many had only a bunk bed in a common room. But they would also use the suite for more sensitive meetings so she supposed in the end, it made more sense than not.

 

The presidential suite, or royal suite now she supposed, had been decorated in shades of navy and red, remnants of the country the bunker used to serve. There was a large bed, a wall of cupboards and dressers farthest into the back of the room. There was a partition that could be drawn to close the area off from a small sitting area that contained a table big enough to seat six, a couple of arm chairs, a few small padded benches, and a large desk. Their belongings had been brought in for them and the large chests stood untouched against one wall. There was a door that led to a private toilet and shower, a luxury that Clarke definitely wouldn't neglect or disparage.

 

“I need to check your wound,” Clarke said, sitting down next to Roan and lifting his shirt. He offered no resistance but chose not to speak, still acting a little petulant over the enforced rest, no matter how much he obviously needed it.

 

She gently lifted the edges of one of the larger dressings, finding that the stitches along the long gash were still in good shape and there was no sign of too much strain on the large wound. She did the same with two of the smaller dressings finding much the same and smiled happily as she replaced the gauze pads, pressing gently to reattach the tape.

 

“So I’m not confined to this room for a month?” he asked and she rolled her eyes at him before moving down the bed to help him off with his boots.

 

“Everything looks good,” she agreed. “But you have to take it easy. We have nowhere to go and nothing urgent to do. Not anymore.”

 

“But the death wave will hit us in about seven hours,” Roan argued, eyes sharp.

 

“Yes, and all we can do is wait. Raven will report as soon as she knows anything important,” Clarke said, setting his boots her own down beside the bed. She crawled up to lay down next to him on her side and watched his profile as he stared up at the ceiling.

 

“It is near Polis,” he said, still staring up at the grey concrete ceiling.

 

“Yes, it should hit in a few hours,” she said, fidgeting with the blanket under them. The sheets still smelled a little musty, but the bed was more comfortable than anything she had slept on in a long time.

 

“Even if this bunker doesn’t hold,” she said softly, giving voice to the last little niggles of fear, not matter how unlikely it was. “I’m still happy you’re here with me now.”

 

“Clarke,” she heard him shift beside her, and his hand wrapped around her fingers. “I didn’t want you to risk your life for mine. It was very foolish of you.”

 

“I couldn’t leave you to die,” she said and felt the trickle of tears down her cheeks. She was emotionally exhausted and couldn't have hidden them if she had the energy to try.

 

“Some sacrifices should be made for the sake of others,” he argued. “The price of my life would have been too high. I instructed my men specifically and they knew I’d rather be left behind than cause anyone else harm or at the cost of anyone’s life, especially yours.”

 

“That depends on your perspective I would wager,” she argued. “None of our men would have left you behind.”

 

“And you would have died in my place?” he asked her, voice tight. “You had no idea how much damage the rain would do to you.”

 

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice,” she said, finally looking up at him to find him watching her closely. “But yes, I would.”

 

“I’m not worth your life, my queen,” he admonished softly, his free hand brushing the tears tracking down her cheeks.

 

“I love you,” she said, holding his gaze and watched emotion flicker behind them. “And that means I would give anything for you. Even my life.”

 

He watched her for a long moment; stroking her cheek, thumb straying just below her still tender brand. Clarke knew she didn’t need him to say the words in return. She knew he had been raised to think of love as a weakness, but she found she needed something, the acknowledgment of her feelings if nothing else.

 

“I know,” he said finally, cupping her cheek gently. “And you are the most important person in my life. I don’t want to know my future without you in it.”

 

Clarke closed her eyes and leaned up to kiss Roan softly. She put as much of her feelings into the kiss as she could while still keeping it soft and gentle. He was exhausted whether he would admit it or not, evidenced by the dark smudges under his eyes and his wan complexion. She sat up and adjusted the blanket behind him, letting him lie a little flatter and curled up along his side, one hand grasped around his. She enjoyed the silence between them and assumed he had fallen asleep, his breathing deep and even.

 

“When I was nineteen,” his voice was low and hesitant and Clarke started a bit. “I fell in love with the daughter of one of my mother’s councilors. She was a few years younger and was in training to work as animal caretaker and horse trainer. She had very little instruction as a warrior and no aspirations to seek out any. She often helped with the younger children and was known for her gentleness. Definitely someone my mother thought unsuitable as a future queen of Azgeda. She was too soft to rule the world Nia desperately wanted to conquer.”

 

“She learned of my feelings toward her and I was young and naïve and believed her when she said she would support my choice,” he continued after clearing his throat and Clarke held her breath, she could guess what Nia would have done. “I assumed that as long as I did as she wished, she would allow me the leeway to choose my own partner. A few weeks later, her father was arrested for treason. He was accused of plotting to overthrow my mother’s rule. Among the strategies he was accused of employing was using his daughter as a ploy to get my affections. His punishment was to watch the public execution of his only child before he was banished from our lands.”

 

Clarke felt the swell of tears once more and her heart broke for the man Roan could have been without the harsh tutelage of his mother. Clarke could imagine how much of the story had been a fabrication on Nia’s part. She was as unfit of a mother as she had been a queen, even in Azgeda.

 

“I believed her and allowed Nia to corrupt my feelings into hate,” he continued. “It was easier to deal with than the grief. It was only when she started to push Ontari into my constant company even as a young girl that I figured out what her plan had been all along. When I told her that I was never going to be a part of her scheming and asked her directly about the execution she told me that she expected me to do my duty as heir to Azgeda. I spent the next few years as far from her as I could, but she called me back when Ontari had turned fourteen, demanding I marry her and move on Polis. I refused. She banished me that day.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Roan,” Clarke whispered, burrowing her face into his shoulder, offering what little comfort she could to the young man he had left behind long ago. She knew the sting of a mother’s betrayal and some would argue there was enough between her and Abby for it to compare, but she couldn’t imagine forgiving her mother for murdering the man she loved to maintain control over her.

 

“I swore I would never allow myself to feel anything close to love toward anyone else again,” he said as he adjusted to push his arm under her shoulders, pulling her close up against his side. “It wasn’t worth risking anyone else’s life or my own. And it worked. Until I met you.”

 

Clarke pressed closer, wanting to hear more, but knowing he had revealed more than he had ever done before. She understood what he was telling her without putting anything else into words but she couldn't deny the warmth that flooded through her chest as he continued.

 

“From the time I first captured you and brought you to Lexa you made an impression on me,” he continued softly, his voice a little hoarse from his exposure to radiation, and perhaps the emotions behind his words. “You were unlike anyone I’d met before and you have never failed to make life difficult for me. The sacrifices you have made and the roads we have traveled together have been greater and filled with more compassion and empathy than I had ever imagined anyone capable of. You made me king as surely as I made you a queen.”

 

“I admire you, Clarke,” he said. “I respect you. You bring me greater honor than I have known before and you have changed me in ways I didn’t think I was capable of any longer. To me that is something far greater than love, though if that is the best word for it, then that is what I feel for you.”

 

Clarke looked over at Roan as he turned his face toward her, eyes open and heavy with emotion. She cupped her hand around his jaw and ran her thumb over the scar on his cheek.

 

“You could just tell me you love me too, you know,” she teased, but her voice was thick with tears. She felt them escape out the corners of her eyes but couldn’t find it in herself to care.

 

“I love you, my queen,” he said with a soft smile.

 

“I love you too, my king,” she echoed quietly, kissing him gently before curling up against his side, head pillowed on his shoulder. He fell asleep shortly after, his body finally succumbing to the need for rest and Clarke joined him for a quick nap before the arrival of the death wave that was going to change the future of mankind forever.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and support on the last chapter made an absolutely horrible week a little easier so thank you guys so much. 
> 
> This is the last of the chapters that follow in a super-close time line. 21 will jump forward a month and then there will be a series of time jumps to just touch on major events. I have had them kind of outlined since the beginning and there are just a few more chunks to write in the later chapters at this point so that's good news. I hope :)

Clarke was sitting at the table in the suite, doodling absently on a page of her sketchbook, eyes straying up to where Roan lay resting on their bed at the back of the room. She had dozed beside him for nearly an hour, but her nerves had caused her to wake easily. She had extricated herself from his side carefully and tucked the blanket around him before making her way over to the table to wait until Tyko and Raven would join them for a bite to eat as they monitored the Polis bunker and waited for the death wave to hit. She had occupied herself as quietly as she could for nearly two hours but she was rapidly running out of ideas. She glanced over at their trunks again; cursing her inability to unpack them, knowing it would be too noisy and would surely wake the sleeping patient.

 

Clarke drummed her fingers on the table, unable to keep her anxious energy contained. She was doing her best to stay quiet enough to allow Roan a few hours of rest he desperately needed, but it was hard when all she wanted to do was pace like a caged animal. She checked the clock on the wall and found that even with her impatience it was nearly time for Raven to arrive.

 

A tentative knock at the door made a smile flicker across her features. Her friend was obviously as nervous as she was.

 

“Hey,” Clarke said softly as the opened door revealed the strained features of Raven Reyes.

 

“Hey, yourself,” she greeted quietly, glancing over Clarke’s shoulder and spotting Roan in bed. “He’s still out?”

 

“Probably not,” Clarke shook her head knowing her husband and looked over her shoulder to see him move slightly so she raised her voice enough to ensure he heard her. “But he will be staying in bed until Tyko gets here.”

 

There was a low grumble of disagreement from the bed and Raven grinned, taking a few halting steps into the suite and dropping her ever-present tablet on the table. Clarke went over to check on Roan, finding him staring up at the ceiling but he didn’t look inclined to argue with her. His eyes still had dark circles under them but the angry red flush of the burns had started to fade and he looked a little more like himself.

 

“Sleep well?” she asked, reaching down to squeeze his fingers. He nodded at her eyes a little wary but warm, and wrapped his fingers around hers. She sat down at his side and reached for the glass of water left at his bedside and the two small tablets the doctor had ordered him to take as soon as he woke. She passed both to the king and though he raised an irritated brow at her, he took them without complaint.

 

“We’ll move one of the big chairs over to the table, that way you have a bit more room to lean back when Tyco comes,” she said, glancing over to one of the cushy armchairs. “For now though, it’s best you lie still.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said sarcastically, but with very little heat. His eyes were still heavy with fatigue and she knew the only reason he felt he needed to be up was because they were so close to the main event.

 

“Happy to see you almost managed to get here in one piece, your majesty,” Raven quipped, approaching the couple but stopping a few steps from the bed. One side of her mouth was raised in a small smirk, but her eyes showed more than a little relief and concern for her friend. He fixed his pale eyes on her and nodded, acknowledging her statement but offering nothing further.

 

“How long until it hits Polis?” Roan asked, not one to dwell on things he couldn’t change.

 

“Probably two hours,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not moving as consistently as I thought and it does seem to be picking up a bit of speed. It may hit in an hour and a half. I’ll bring it all up on the screen in here so we can watch the progress while we eat.”

 

“There’s a TV in here?” Clarke asked, casting her eyes around the empty walls with a frown. Raven laughed, shaking her head and walked over to where the writing desk sat against the wall. There was a large Presidential seal on the wall above it and Raven opened one of the drawers, pushing a button inside and a panel slid up to reveal four TVs mounted in a grid.

 

“So that’s a yes,” Clarke muttered a little sardonically. She watched as Raven pulled the drawer out further, pressing her fingers down in rapid succession on what she assumed was a keyboard. Within seconds the four screens depicted four different things, each relevant to the approaching destruction.

 

There was a camera mounted at the gates of Polis facing the oncoming wave that showed a bright orange sky, but nothing beyond it. A computer simulation of the moving wave was on the screen next to it, followed by one with data and ever-changing GPS coordinates of where the wave was hitting and how long was left until it hit each of the three listed locations. The fourth was an image from outside their own bunker, the sky still an odd shade of grey-blue, but there was a burning yellow in the distance that signaled the approaching destruction.

 

The trio watched the changing information on the screen in silence; the reality of what was coming and how quickly it would be upon them all settling with difficulty in the tense room. Most likely they would all be safe, but Clarke assumed she wasn’t the only one who still felt a nervous pull of fear.

 

There was a firm knock on the door and Clarke opened it to find Tyko accompanied by a couple of people bearing trays of food. She smiled at the sandy-haired warrior and the people behind him, opening the door wide and gesturing them inside.

 

“Azplana,” Tyko greeted her warmly as he entered and glanced over at the bed where Raven now stood speaking in low tones to Roan.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke said to the girls who came with the trays and busily scurried out as soon as food and drinks were on the table.

 

“How is he?” Tyko asked her softly as he helped her arrange the dishes on the table. He seemed a little nervous and she wondered if it was mainly out of concern for his long-time friend or if it was because he had disobeyed a direct order from his king. She supposed it didn’t matter that everything had turned out well in the end, but she was also certain Roan didn’t harbor any animosity toward the decision.

 

“He’s been asleep since you brought him down,” she answered softly. “But I doubt we’ll be able to keep him lying in bed as he should be much longer.”

 

At that Tyko grinned widely, and looked over at the bed.

 

“No, I imagine not,” he replied before straightening and making his way over to Roan.

 

Clarke finished laying out the prepared plates of food and poured measures of water for each of them. She eyed the large chair and debated whether to drag it over to the table, or if Roan would object at being coddled. Her question was answered for her as Roan made his way slowly over to a chair with Tyko’s help, lowering himself slowly to sit, eyes full of challenge when she looked over at him.

 

She shook her head but smiled softly at him, deciding that small concessions would make the next couple of weeks much easier. He may have survived some pretty serious wounds before, but the cut he was currently sporting would be his largest scar by far so she was equally certain there was a bit of extra bluster and pride dictating his actions. She squeezed his shoulder gently as she moved to take the seat next to him and he was quick to catch her hand and drop a kiss to her palm.

 

Raven and Tyko took the remaining seats at the table and the mechanic shot Clarke an amused smirk before they settled in to eat. Conversation was stilted and slow, each of the four were nervous about what was coming, and as much as Roan tried not to show it, he was obviously still in quite a bit of pain. But they persisted until the food was gone and Clarke stacked the empty plates on one of the trays while Tyko helped Roan into one of the armchairs, a pillow propped behind his back and a chair under his feet to help him into a half-reclined position in front of the bank of televisions.

 

Raven busied herself at the desk and called up to the main control room to check on the people watching upstairs. All of the data they could see upstairs was being directly fed to their room, but Raven was nervous and wanted to ensure everything was as it should be. There was about half an hour before the wave hit and there was nothing left to do but wait.

 

Clarke straightened everything up on the table once more before grabbing one of the cushions off the sofa to pop under Roan’s feet. Anything she could do to keep busy. She would have demanded he let her check on the progress of his wound if she thought he’d allow it, but knew that it caused him enough irritation when they were alone. So she continued to flit around the room, glancing up at the screens every couple of minutes, watching the sky darken to a menacing yellow in Polis and the dark red line move closer with every passing second.

 

She thought about Bellamy and Octavia, waiting anxiously for the wave to hit and hoping that everything would hold. They were the front line and it was unclear if Alpha would even know how they fared until the communications systems were back up and running. Raven had told them there was a near certainty that they would lose communication with both bunkers for a few days until the radiation stopped interfering with the systems. If the dust cloud was thick enough to prevent the satellite signals from penetrating, they would be unable to communicate with Polis for months potentially. Alpha and Beta bunkers had a wired connection that was still intact so they would be able to maintain at least radio communication if nothing else.

 

Clarke picked at her shirt as she tried to keep her mind on the present and eyed the trunks again. Even if they didn’t hear back from Polis, she was sure her friends would be alright. There had been no evidence that there had been any radiation penetration from the last nuclear blast. They had checked the whole bunker over more than the others. But it was hard for her to have faith that everything would turn out well. Any time she had in the past, it had all fallen apart when she finally thought they had made it through.

 

“Clarke,” Roan’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked over her shoulder at him. Raven was still busy pouring over the data on her tablet and Tyko had his eyes turned to the screens. It seemed she was the sole focus of her husband’s interest at the moment. He raised a hand and beckoned her over, a silent ‘come here’ that she was loath to deny.

 

“Stop,” he said softly as soon as she had reached his side, grasping her fingers firmly in his hand. “There’s no use fretting. There is nothing more to be done.”

 

“I know,” she sighed and he tugged on her hand until she settled on the arm of the chair. “I can’t help it. What if we missed something?”

 

“We did everything we could,” he reassured her, a large warm hand wrapping around her hip and squeezing firmly. He held her gaze until her shoulders relaxed, his thumb rubbing absently at the small strip of skin above the waistband of her pants. She let out a heavy breath and turned her eyes back to the screens. Five minutes. Raven looked up and her fingers tensed as she also noticed the time.

 

“This is it,” Raven whispered and moved backwards, nearly colliding with the second armchair before Tyko snaked a hand around her hips. She looked behind her at the warrior and flushed with a soft thank you. He graciously vacated the seat to stand beside it, allowing her to take a seat and Clarke couldn’t resist a small grin at the display.

 

“Four minutes,” Raven said after clearing her throat. “Looks pretty awesome though, doesn’t it?”

 

Clarke’s eyes flickered over to the red-orange storm as it approached the gates of Polis. It truly looked like the gates of Hell opening before them. You could just make out where the strong wave hit, flattening trees and anything in its path. They would lose this camera very soon. The image was already flickering unsteadily, the radiation interfering with the signal.

 

They lost the camera at two minutes, an empty black square left in its place. At one minute before the hit, the green light signaling the functioning communications system with Polis turned red, as they had expected. Communication with Polis was officially blacked out for an unknown length of time.

 

“That’s all she wrote,” Raven murmured as the countdown next to Polis zeroed out with the arrival of the death wave. She sighed and tapped a few words into her tablet before looking over at Clarke and Roan.

 

“I’m still thinking it’ll be another four hours, maybe slightly less,” she said with a shake of her head. “What do you want to do in the interim?”

 

Roan’s hand was still a warm weight around her hipbone and Clarke wished they didn’t have so long to wait. On one hand she envied Polis for being the first, at least they only had to wait for communications to get back online now. She refused to think about the worst-case scenario.

 

“When are the representatives assembling?” Roan asked.

 

Each kru had one senior member in each bunker to represent the will of their individual clan to serve as a hopefully impartial council. They would handle everything from minor infractions and major disputes and be the voice of their people while they were underground. Hopefully in time the people of the different krus would slowly come together as one, but for now it was important that every member felt valued as an individual.

 

“We have arranged for them to meet thirty minutes before praimfaya hits,” Tyko answered. “I will be happy to stand in your place if the azplana wishes to remain here.”

 

Roan glanced up at Clarke, eyes more guarded than usual, and she knew he was trying to hide something from her. Clarke desperately wanted to stay down here and wait for what was to come in his reassuring company, but she knew that she needed to rise above her own desires and lead their people. She smiled softly down at him before looking over at Tyko.

 

“Thank you, Tyko,” she said with a smile. “But it’s best that I’m there. It is a pretty important occasion for us all.” She felt the hand around her hip tighten and looked down to see pride shining unabashedly from a set of sky blue eyes.

 

“As you wish,” Tyko acknowledged with a nod and small quirk of his lips. “I’ll keep the king company.”

 

Roan looked over at his Second and shook his head in good humour. Clarke could see the underlying friendship between the two men in moments like these. Both were careful to hide it while out in public, but when they were among those they trusted, it became apparent that they had a long, shared history. One Clarke hoped to one day learn more about.

 

“I’m going to head back up to the control centre,” Raven said, rising. “I’ve got a few things I want to check on with Monty in Beta in case we’re in a comms blackout for a while after the wave. I’ll meet up with you again before the meeting, Clarke.”

 

“I’ll swing by and grab you,” Clarke acknowledged. The meeting rooms were located in the same stretch of hallway as the communications room so it wouldn’t take more than an extra couple of minutes. Raven smiled and gave a short salute before making her way out of the suite. Tyko moved toward the table, balancing the plates precariously on a stack of trays.

 

“I’ll drop these off in the scullery and come back in a couple of hours,” he said and Clarke hopped up and opened the door for him. He left with a look back at the king and a smile for Clarke. She shut the door behind him softly and let out a breath. She really hated waiting.

 

Turning back around she noticed Roan’s slow attempt at standing and rushed over to his side, ducking under one arm as he managed to get himself to his feet.

 

“Are you actually following advice and going back to bed?” she teased as she turned them in that direction and her husband huffed.

 

“I have learned that opposing the will of my wife is not something I always have the fortitude to do,” he muttered as they reached the bed. “Sometimes it is simply easier to let her have her way, regardless of how much she coddles.”

 

“Well it certainly doesn’t sound like it’s worth arguing with such a brilliant woman,” Clarke parried with a smile, helping him sit heavily before adjusting the pillows to allow him to lie half-upright. He lay back with a sigh, his body tired after the effort he expended. She helped him adjust into a more comfortable position and leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips.

 

“Why don’t you try and get a bit more rest?” she said softly and he blinked up at her.

 

“Only if you join me,” he grumbled, indicating the empty spot on the bed beside him. She shook her head at him, but crawled up on the bed, tucking herself carefully onto his shoulder. It didn’t take long before Roan had fallen asleep once again but Clarke stayed at his side, content to enjoy the moment of peace and tried to keep her mind off what was happening above ground.

 

*~*~*

 

“The death wave should hit us in approximately ten minutes,” Clarke said, looking at each of the clan representatives seated around a long table in one of the meeting rooms. There were two large screens showing the computer simulated wave approaching and the camera feed from outside the bunker.

 

“And we will know immediately if this holds?” Vali asked, dark eyes scanning the screens suspiciously.

 

“Pretty much,” Clarke said. “If there is anything wrong with the seals on the bunker it will be evident within a few minutes. Raven is monitoring levels inside at all critical points.”

 

“We don’t expect anything to go wrong,” Raven said, expanding on Clarke’s assurance. “But I suppose we won’t know for sure until the end. We lost communications as we expected to with Polis, so I can’t confirm yet how they fared.”

 

“When will we know how they fared?” the representative from Podakru asked. She scanned the screens with less suspicion than Vali had but still looked nervous, as most of the people assembled did.

 

“I will start working on getting the systems back up as soon as possible,” Raven replied. “But it could take a while. It depends on how thick the cloud layer is. Until the satellites can communicate we won’t be able to get a signal down to them. Unfortunately, we have no idea how long it will take.”

 

“So we may not know about them for some time?” the dark haired woman clarified, green eyes glittering. Clarke knew her mother was in the Polis bunker, along with her younger brother.

 

“Unfortunately, we may not know for over a year,” Clarke said softly. “But Raven is confident that Polis would have no issues.”

 

“And if you cannot get the systems working again?” Vali let the question hang as the countdown clock read two minutes.

 

“Then we will have to wait until we get to the surface,” Raven said with a heavy sigh. “But we’ll do our best. We won’t have any issues communicating with Beta.”

 

There was a round of solemn nods and the questions died out as the timer started counting down from sixty seconds. Clarke drew in a deep breath, relieved the moment was here but terrified that the bunker wouldn’t hold. She couldn’t help the flickering memories of Mount Weather that played through her mind and she clenched her fists nervously. Raven was watching the screen just as intently and Clarke reached over and grasped her hand, squeezing hard.

 

“Ten seconds,” Raven whispered and there was a low rumble gradually rising in volume permeating through the walls of the bunker. As the seconds ticked by the roar grew and the ground shook but as soon as it came it was over once again. The countdown numbers zeroed out and the occupants of the room looked around nervously.

 

“That’s it,” Clarke announced, looking at the assembled people. The announcement as greeted by heavy silence and Raven tapped away at her tablet, changing the now empty screen from the camera outside to one showing internal and external radiation levels. Everyone watched the numbers silently.

 

“The levels are holding,” Raven announced after a couple of minutes, a relieved grin spreading across her features. “We would have seen a change by now, even a minor one.”

 

Clarke turned and wrapped her arms around the mechanic, hugging her tightly. The representatives took this as a sign to let out their collective breaths and soon grins were spreading around the room. The tension flowed out of the room and soon enough there was a low buzz of conversation once again.

 

“Alright,” Clarke said as she stood. “Now that we know it will hold we have jumped the biggest hurdle. We will work on the communications systems and hopefully we will hear from Polis before long. Beta will be hit shortly and Raven will be monitoring them and let us know if there is reason for concern. But if we have not had any problems, it is doubtful they will.”

 

“We have arranged a meeting of the council in three days time,” Clarke continued. “We should have an update on both bunkers at that time and then we will start to organize life underground.”

 

“Will the haihefa be able to attend?” Vali asked, a deep frown on his features.

 

“Roan should be able to attend,” Clarke said with a small smile. “I doubt we could keep him away if we tried.”

 

Her statement got a low laugh from the clan leaders, relief and hope making them happy and relaxed. Vali looked particularly relieved much to Clarke’s surprise, but she supposed he had taken the king’s welfare quite personally. Roan had explained that the injury he sustained was in large part done in protection of the young man from a particularly aggressive attack. If Roan hadn’t blocked the other fighter, Vali wouldn’t have made it. He owed Roan a life-debt and that was not something that was ever taken lightly. But he had protected the king fiercely and Clarke would always be grateful to the young man.

 

“He is a strong warrior,” the bearded Yujleda kru leader said with a wide grin. “We are lucky to have such a fine king.”

 

There was a wave of assent and Clarke grinned. Though relief at finding themselves safe certainly influenced their positive opinion, it was heartening to hear that they held their leader in such esteem.

 

“Thank you everyone,” Clarke said. “You are free to go and address any concerns your people may have. We will provide answers to them as soon as we have them. The memorial and feast at this point will be in two night’s time in the canteen and main assembly hall. We will reevaluate that if we do not have answers about the bunkers tomorrow morning.”

 

The group disbanded quickly, each member eager to seek out his or her friends and loved ones. There were still preparations to be made and activity to monitor, but now that the anticipation of the wave was over, Clarke was exhausted. It was approaching midnight on the surface and she had been awake since dawn, unable to relax in the clinic. It was time for her to go back to her rooms and rest. Everything else could wait until tomorrow.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke opened the door to her room quietly, hopeful that she would find Roan resting rather than up and about. As she slipped in the door however she spotted him stretched out in the recliner in front of the television bank with Tyko talking quietly. He looked exhausted, but looked over at her as she walked up to the two friends.

 

“Everything go as expected?” Roan asked, his voice particularly hoarse. It was definitely time to get him back to bed and properly resting.

 

“Yes,” Clarke nodded and shot a glance over at Tyko who stood up at her unasked request. “Everything went well, the representatives are speaking to their people now and then hopefully life will start to settle again. We have a council meeting three days from now and the feast in two nights, but I may ask to push that back until after the meeting.”

 

“To what advantage?” Roan asked.

 

“It will give the council a bit more input,” Clarke replied, mentally adding that he would have an extra day of rest before he pushed himself to sit through an entire dinner with their people. “And if communication lines with Beta remain down for more than a day, it would be better to have answers before we celebrate.”

 

Roan nodded, apparently agreeing with her logic, but she doubted he didn’t guess at her more personal reasoning. But the fact that he didn’t outright dismiss the idea meant he probably needed the extra day of rest.

 

“We will see if Raven can hail them in the morning, if not, I’ll get word out to delay the feast,” Clarke said and nodded to Tyko who moved over to assist Roan in standing. The king swayed a little on his feet and Clarke hurried over to pull back the covers on the bed and adjust the pillows before Roan sat heavily on the side.

 

“Thank you, Tyko,” Roan said softly, reaching out to shake his hand. Tyko laid a hand on his shoulder in reply and looked over at Clarke.

 

“I arranged food delivery with the canteen in the morning for you both,” he said as he straightened and moved toward the door with Clarke following. “Lunch and dinner will be brought by as well, but you can organise the timings. I assume you will be out to see Raven at some point.”

 

“Yes,” Clarke nodded as they reached the door. She looked up at the warrior and impulsively reached up to give him a grateful hug. She stepped back quickly with a quiet thanks and caught a light flush over the man’s cheeks.

 

“I will be by in the morning,” he said after clearing his throat and glancing over her shoulder at Roan, obviously a little uncomfortable. “Breakfast will be by at ten to give you enough time to rest in the morning.”

 

“Thank you, Tyko,” Clarke smiled and opened the door to allow him his escape which he took quickly.

 

“If you plan on showing such affection to all my warriors they will never listen to me,” Roan grumbled in good humour as she came back to the bed.

 

He was still sitting, waiting patiently for her. Clarke laughed and kneeled down before him, pulling off his socks before sitting forward and reaching for the hem of his shirt. He leaned forward helping her pull it up and over his head without raising his arms too high. He moved very stiffly and she realized he wouldn’t have been able to do it himself. He definitely needed a few days of rest.

 

“I promise it was a one-time thing, though I don’t believe for a second you see him as just another one of your warriors,” Clarke smiled at him as his face was revealed. “A bit of added happiness from being so excited we all made it, if it reassures you.”

 

“Only if you share some of that enthusiasm with me,” he smirked suggestively and Clarke shook her head and stood as he raised his legs and moved up to lie back against the pillows. She unfastened his trousers and slid them down his hips and legs, pulling the blanket over him as she straightened once more. She handed him his next dose of medication and a glass of water before getting ready for bed.

 

“I’m pretty sure that no matter how enthusiastic you are about that particular activity, it’s on the no-go list for a few days at least,” Clarke said as she pulled her own shirt over her head, heading back into the common area of the room to switch off the lights. All she got in reply was a low grumble of disagreement, but he watched her intently as she stripped off her layers of clothing, depositing the pile in a basket set out in a corner. She slid under the sheets and flicked off the last light, leaving the room with only the small strip of ambient light near the door to the small ensuite.

 

“I’m sure we can work around that if we try,” Roan said and reached a hand out for her. Clarke laughed as she slid closer to him, running her fingers down the side of his face before burrowing into his side, her body protesting in its exhaustion.

 

“Maybe,” she acknowledged with a yawn. “But for now, sleep.”

 

Roan chuckled and kissed her temple and it wasn’t long before his breathing deepened and evened out into sleep and Clarke soon followed.

 

*~*~*

 

Four nights after praimfaya found Clarke and Roan seated at a long table at the front of the canteen. The room was packed to capacity, every last person in the bunker was present for the feast celebrating their survival and honouring those that were left above ground. It had taken a couple of days to re-establish communication with Beta, the latent radiation interfering severely with any attempt at radio communication.

 

When Abby’s voice first filtered through the crackling radio channel Clarke had nearly cried in relief. Raven had reassured her from the beginning that Beta was in good working order, the computer systems had maintained enough communication to be able to check on their status, but it was a whole different matter actually hearing from someone inside. So the feast had been pushed back until tonight after consultation with the kru leaders and co-ordination with Beta. They wanted to maintain as much unity between the bunkers as possible and Raven had set up a live radio link to broadcast Roan’s address to both bunkers simultaneously.

 

Roan had frowned at the large microphone that had been set before him and Raven had laughed out loud, pointing out that a microphone was the least sophisticated piece of technology he had come across before cuffing him lightly on the shoulder. Clarke had smiled, enjoying the lightness in the air after many weeks of fear and doubt.

 

Roan still showed signs of being in pain, but had made it through a two hour meeting with kru leaders without ill effect. Clarke had been reluctant about him promising that he would be at the feast all night, but assumed that they may be able to slip out quietly once food, drink and music made for a jubilant enough atmosphere. She eyed to clock above them and blew out a breath, knowing it was nearly time. She still hated these public ceremonies, but couldn’t deny the pleasure of having something to celebrate.

 

“Two minutes,” she turned to Roan who was watching the people before them idly. He seemed more relaxed than he had above ground, but he was still watching everyone vigilantly. He turned to her and grasped her hand, squeezing her fingers gently between his own as he nodded. She turned her palm over and interlaced their fingers, holding tight.

 

Raven limped up to the table and smiled up at them both.

 

“Ready?” she asked, casting her glance between the couple. “Kane should be making his announcement now. The mic is sensitive enough that you don’t need to be near it to be heard and Monty will be adjusting the volume on the other end.”

 

“Yes,” Roan replied, slipping expertly into his leadership mask as he turned to signal a guard to call the assembled people to quiet attention. Raven looked around as the crowd quieted down and switched on the microphone. Clarke took a deep breath and stood alongside her husband.

 

“Welcome everyone,” Roan said into the anticipatory silence, all eyes in the room turned to the front where the royal couple stood. Clarke smiled out at everyone, but felt her nerves prickle at being the centre of attention.

 

“We come together tonight to celebrate our survival and to honour those who did not. This is a time for us to mark and appreciate the sacrifices made by others to give humanity a chance to survive eradication. We have all worked tirelessly, relentlessly, and effectively to get to this point. We have all sacrificed for our friends, family, and for our Coalition to allow our people a chance to once again rebuild the world.

 

“Tonight is the perfect time to reflect on what brought us to this point and to do our best as one people, one kru, to build a better future for our children and for the generations yet to come. It is up to all of us, in these years under ground and most especially in the years that follow as we rejoin with the remainder of our friends and family, to maintain this peace and this unity. To use this time to forge new friendships and understandings so that we can rebuild again above ground and thrive together.

 

“It is up to us, the chosen survivors of the original thirteen clans of the Coalition, to rebuild our world. And with that responsibility comes the opportunity to move forward and become better. To build a world where we do not rely on what separates us to continue to define us, but to face our challenges as one people. To build a world that celebrates the strength it took to survive our past and defeat even near-certain destruction wrought on us by generations past. Generations whose violence and war left behind a deadly force that would have killed every last one of us if we hadn’t found common ground and worked together.

 

“Let us carry this lesson forward from this day. Teach it to each child and celebrate the lives sacrificed to get us here today. Honour those who chose to give their lives so others may live. We owe them a great debt. Let not their sacrifices have been made in vain.

 

“From this night we move forward together as one and lay the foundations for peaceful and fruitful future.”

 

Clarke held her breath as his last words echoed in the silent hall. She cast her eyes around the people assembled around them, finding more than one person affected by Roan’s words. The people gathered were not only separated from loved ones in the two other bunkers, but they had lost those left above ground. A cheer rose up, starting as low clap and erupting into thunderous applause.

 

Roan reached for her hand and squeezed it hard, watching the reaction as it spread over the crowd. It was a time for celebration as much as it was a time for honouring memories and the people left to survive had been struggling through weeks of insecurity and fear and finally found safety.

 

“Enjoy the feast,” Roan said once the ruckus had died down. “Take the time to make new friends. The people gathered around you are now your neighbours, your fellow clansmen, and your fellow survivors. The people you will be relying on every day for the rest of your life. Celebrate each other and honour the lives of the fallen, share stories of your clansmen and listen to others. And take the time to enjoy yourselves.”

 

The crowd erupted in happy cheers and whoops of laughter. Clarke smiled out at everyone, catching Raven’s thumbs up as she stepped back to sit once more. Once she sat, Roan joined her, sitting heavily in his chair. Raven quickly came up and switched the mic off, grinning widely at the king.

 

“Good job, your highness,” she complimented with a cheeky smile. “The big bad mic is off so you’re free to chat as normal.”

 

“Is she always this infuriating,” Roan rumbled while Raven was still in earshot and the mechanic shot a saucy wink at him over her shoulder as she limped off to chat to Monty.

 

“Only to people she likes,” Clarke answered with a laugh and thanked the young girl who deposited a glass before her. “You’re just grumpy because you’re in pain and you should be in bed. Personally, I’m just glad she’s turned on you. It’s about time for you to suffer the way I have been.”

 

Soon food was brought around and Raven joined them at the head table, looking out at the assembled crowd. There wasn’t any formal seating so people milled about enjoying the food and drink and the celebratory atmosphere. Small groups of people came up to greet Roan and Clarke, expressing everything from joy to grief, happy to be granted a chance to have their say. Clarke listened to each person, happy to hear from everyone who wanted a chance to speak. She reached out discreetly for Roan’s hand and smiled over at him as his fingers wrapped around hers, and the older woman she had been speaking to smiled secretly up at her.

 

The rest of the night was a wash of laughter and celebration and much to Clarke’s relief it didn’t take long for people to become involved with each other, allowing her to discreetly leave with Roan after only a few hours. He was already looking strained and moved slowly through the deserted hallways to their suite. He didn’t object as she helped him undress and was asleep before she had managed to get ready for the night.

 

Clarke crawled in between the sheets slowly, not wanting to disturb his well-deserved rest. She stared up at the concrete ceiling above her and tried to take stock of her feelings. She was happy and relieved that everything had finally worked out for the better. Knowing that she had told Roan she loved him and had him tell her of his own love in return warmed her in ways she hadn’t imagined. Clarke knew that wherever life would now lead her as long as Roan was there as her partner and friend, she would manage no matter how hard the trial. And she couldn’t wait to find out where these roads would take them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next week I am going to have very limited access to the internet on my computer. I will do my best to get another update in, but I am going to be very very busy. I may also have to drop everything and head home to help my parents during a round of treatment if things get any worse for my dad. Hopefully that won't be the case for obvious reasons, but I have a lot on my plate at the moment that's out of my control.
> 
> So enjoy this update, and hopefully I will get the next one up soon :)

 

It was funny how life quickly fell into routine even under the most unusual of circumstances. The death wave had hit the bunkers a little over a month ago and life had settled around the people in Alpha. Clarke smiled at Nancy as she entered the clinic for her own shift, assisting where she could with minor injuries and continuing her training under Doctor Michaels.

 

“Good morning, Clarke,” Nancy greeted with a smile.

 

“Morning,” she returned as she moved over to where the tablets were kept so she could review her patient list. “Anything I need to know?”

 

“Nah,” Nancy said, washing her hands. “Everything has been pretty easy. Nothing new to report.”

 

“Perfect,” Clarke sighed, looking forward to an easy day. “Enjoy your day off.”

 

“You can’t imagine how much I will,” Nancy said with a tinkling laugh as she left the clinic.

 

Clarke perused the patient list and their medical charts as she sipped at a cup of tea to start her day. Two weeks in she had been added to the rotation as a part time medical officer, continuing her training and assisting where she could. There were ten others who had started medical training from a variety of clans and it all seemed to be going well so far. There was a mix of modern Skaikru and traditional grounder medicine, both groups finding something new to learn from each other.

 

Roan had recovered well, though he still moved a little stiffly after a long bout of inactivity and a limited range of motion, but overall he was almost back to fighting shape. He still wasn’t allowed to do anything overly strenuous and it was starting to affect his mood, but Clarke was confident he would be cleared the next day to return to light training. He had taken the majority of the work associated with leading the people underground and spent long hours meeting with various groups and keeping a close eye on how every sector in the bunker worked. Everything was running smoothly and it was giving people hope.

 

Raven was working tirelessly to restore communication with Polis, but it was as she had suspected. There was a thick layer of debris and dust in the atmosphere that prevented any satellite signal from breaking through. Until it cleared enough there wouldn’t be much chance of re-establishing communication with the Polis bunker. Clarke was as disappointed as the rest, but she had faith that eventually they would be able to speak to them again. They had done their best to ensure that at least one satellite would be able to get a signal at one point.

 

Temperatures on the surface had plummeted and the world above was freezing as far as they could tell. The thick cloud layer was most likely blocking out the sun and killing anything that had managed to survive the initial blast. Clarke worried about what they would find once they resurfaced, but knew that this was a likely possibility. There were already plans in progress about how they could maintain partial residence in the bunkers until it became possible to farm and grow food on the surface exclusively, but they had years to iron out the details. The radiation levels had been relatively quick to lower much to Raven’s surprise. They weren’t survivable yet by any means, but it was a hopeful sign that the five-year approximate timeframe would be pretty accurate for their isolation under the earth.

 

“Good morning, Clarke,” Doctor Michaels greeted as he entered the clinic and Clarke smiled over at him. She hadn’t worked much with him before this, but found his way of teaching quite engaging and looked forward to learning under someone other than her mother’s critical eye. There were less expectations of her and it made her more passionate about healing than she had been before.

 

“Morning,” she returned and joined him in his office to go over their plans for the day ahead.

 

A few hours later she had a late break for lunch, making her way up to the canteen. It had quickly become a bustling hive of activity and they had ensured there was always staff on to work as people adjusted to a more scheduled life in the bunker. It was odd for Clarke how life in Alpha had seemed to blend her two worlds together. The grounders were definitely still strangers to her on many levels, especially the clans she hadn’t interacted with before, but they had become similar to the people on the Ark that she hadn’t known. Faces in the crowd she recognized but hadn’t really spoken to. She would see them as she moved around the bunker and see the same groups of friends congregating around tables at meal times. It was an odd sense of unity in her new world and it made her equal parts happy and uncomfortable as she stood in the short line that led to the food service station.

 

“Isn’t it a little late for lunch, niron?” a deep voice rumbled behind her before two hands set themselves on her hips. Clarke smiled as she turned her head pleased at the unexpected run-in. She turned easily in his grip and though she was tempted, she refrained from anything more than a quick peck on the lips as a hello.

 

“We had to reset a broken arm,” she answered. “One of the boys decided to show off by launching from one of the swings in the playroom during their break and didn’t account for the table in his path when he overshot the landing.”

 

Two boys had come in to the clinic with one of the teacher’s aids looking quite thoroughly chastised. The Trikru boy with the broken arm was about fourteen and had been trying to impress a couple of the girls in their class while they were on a study break. His Skaikru co-conspirator had egged him on and since neither boy refused to tattle on the other they would be facing punishment together. Clarke had hidden her laugh as they bickered back and forth in the clinic as she plastered his arm but the fact that children of different krus were already forming friendships was a positive sign, even if it meant a little disobedience from time to time. Broken bones would always heal.

 

“Vali relayed the incident with a little too much pride,” Roan said as he looked over her head, pushing her gently in the direction of the food. “But I suppose it is evidence that the children are forming bonds with each other.”

 

Clarke nodded in reply as she looked over her meager lunch options before settling for some cheese and salad. She was only a few hours from the end of her shift and she had promised Raven they would catch up for dinner when she was finished.

 

“What are you doing here?” Clarke asked as she sat at a table against one of the walls, Roan settling down beside her. He was generally busy at this time of the afternoon, overseeing training or in some form of committee meeting.

 

“I’m finding it difficult to oversee training when I’m still banned from actually participating,” he growled and Clarke couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out. “I have no idea what you have on Tyko to make him insist I actually follow that direction. I doubt there is any need for such caution.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll be cleared to start training at your appointment tomorrow,” she reassured him and he glared at her, keeping mum about her agreement with his Second. “Doctor Michaels had to reinsert some of your intestines back behind your abdominal wall. He doesn’t want to have to do it again just because you’re impatient and end up giving yourself a hernia at the operation site.”

 

Roan chose not to reply and she bumped his shoulder playfully as she took a bite of her salad. He fixed his eyes on her but didn’t crack so she bumped him again with a laugh. He really wasn’t taking well to his long period of enforced rest. He made an irritated noise and wrapped his arm around her waist, choosing to let the subject drop and watch her eat instead. As she finished up she filled him in on her morning and her plans to meet up with Raven in a few hours.

 

Though people often interrupted them in public to bring some matter or another to their attention, today it seemed that people were content to leave the pair in peace. Considering most were occupied in their daily tasks, it wasn’t too surprising. Roan always made time to speak to anyone who approached him, and Clarke did the same, though she found she had less patience than her husband. Though she wanted to take advantage of the free time she had with Roan, she knew it was almost time for her to get back to the clinic and finish up.

 

Roan stood as she did and walked with her as she made her way back up to the clinic. As they neared the clinic, he grabbed her arm suddenly, pulling her into a small alcove and pressing her up against the wall. He claimed her lips immediately and Clarke enthusiastically returned his attention, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. He kissed her deeply, running his hands up her sides and settling them on her hips, pulling her pelvis close against his own. She wasn’t sure where his sudden playfulness came from, but she was not going to argue even if it meant being a few minutes late.

 

He pulled back from her, leaving her panting and her body tingling in want and anticipation. When she looked up at him he was smirking down at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing. He pressed his pelvis into hers and she groaned in frustration, knowing she had to get back to work.

 

“Maybe I’m not the only one who is a little impatient from time to time,” he said as he playfully nipped at her throat and she laughed and dropped her forehead onto his shoulder.

 

“I’m not the one pulling you into dark corners and having my way with you,” she chided as she kissed him softly before reluctantly pulling away from him.

 

“Pity,” he grumbled as he let her go, remaining leaning against the wall as she backed away.

 

“I’ll be having dinner with Raven at six,” she reminded him and he cocked a brow at her. “If you behave yourself I’ll spend the remainder of the evening helping you keep your mind off not training.”

 

“I intend on collecting on that promise in full,” he said with a predatory smile and Clarke quickly turned and walked off toward the clinic before she was tempted to just take the rest of the afternoon off.

 

*~*~*

 

Focusing on her tasks the rest of the afternoon proved more difficult than Clarke liked to admit. It felt like she had less time these days with Roan than she had had before praimfaya. They no longer spent the majority of their days together preparing for the end and Roan wasn’t nearly as obsessively protective of her now that most threats against her had been neutralized. Now they had separate lives focused on different things. While this was good and healthy, it also left only evenings their primary time in each other’s company.

 

Roan’s duties seldom left him with any formal days off, and certainly not a large amount of time where they both had a day off together. Clarke concluded that maybe they should take care to try and schedule at least one day a week where they could both take some time off together. She still wanted to show him all the aspects from her old life that she had rediscovered in the archives in the bunker.

 

There was a large video storage facility that included everything from sports, records of news and major events, to films and television shows they had decided they wanted to keep for future generations. Many Clarke had never even heard of before and desperately wanted to explore. All she needed was a partner to watch them with and she had her sights set on one in particular who she knew had never indulged in watching a film, let alone a whole television series. She had been hinting at finding something that may appeal to them both for the past couple of weeks, hoping Roan would eventually show an interest.

 

“Clarke!” Raven called out as she entered that canteen, waving her over to a table in the corner against the wall. There were already two trays set out, and Clarke was happy her friend had thought ahead as she surveyed the long line that had already formed.

 

“Hey, Rae,” Clarke leaned down to give her friend a warm hug before she settled across the table from her. The girls caught up on their recent week, having hardly had a chance to see each other for a couple of weeks, both busy settling in to their respective roles. Raven had naturally been the one making the major discoveries about the contents of the archives and had been the one to give Clarke the catalogue of video files.

 

“Did you manage to finish that one show you absolutely had to find out if the archives had?” Clarke asked knowing Raven had been going on about it as soon as she found the files.

 

“Game of Thrones?” Raven asked, eyes lighting up. “Yes! And you will thank me once you actually get around to watching it. Which better be soon. I’m getting desperate.”

 

“I will happily take your word for it,” Clarke said with a laugh as Raven pouted.

 

Raven had been particularly delighted when she found the massive cache of old films, especially when she found out how different they were from the ones on the Ark. She had spent hours up on the Ark sifting through the entertainment industry files of the world Before the nuclear fall out and had a list of things she absolutely had to watch. She had apparently finally located a file on the space station that contained the first few seasons of this particular show, one that was touted to have basically stopped the entire world when it aired around the globe in later seasons. But she had stolen the shuttle before she’d had a chance to finish it.

 

Finding the files not only in tact but also in high definition had made Raven do an embarrassing happy dance that Clarke would never let her live down. Since then she had been pestering Clarke to watch it so she could have someone to discuss it with at length and now she had apparently finished it all which only intensified her campaign.

 

“I will resort to bribing Roan soon,” Raven muttered when Clarke made no further promises, keeping her head down to hide her laughter. “It’s just a matter of figuring out what he needs. Even a king must need _something_. Either that or find something to blackmail him with.”

 

“Should this discussion worry me at all?” A very familiar voice broke into the conversation and Clarke burst out laughing as Raven paled a fraction. “You may have saved us, Reyes, but I’m not entirely sure treason against the king will be a forgivable crime. Even with your track record.”

 

Roan placed a tray down on the table beside Clarke who was still laughing at his ridiculously good timing as she slid to the side to make some room for him. He dropped down onto the bench, sitting closer than he needed to, letting his thigh press up against hers firmly.

 

“Very funny, your majesty,” Raven groused at him. “But you will be indebted to me for all of eternity because I’m certain Clarke will make you watch it with her. Then she will be so overcome with joy that you will enjoy the many benefits of keeping your wife happy and I will be sitting here, on my high horse, lording over you all in my supremacy.”

 

“That is quite the endorsement for a bit of make believe,” Clarke said with a laugh, enjoying Raven’s discomfort too much to help her out.

 

“You know what?” Raven said, eyes flickering between the couple, changing tact completely. “I’m going to do the complete opposite now. I’m not going to let you watch it and make sure everyone else in this bunker has seen it except for you.”

 

“Are you suggesting you’ll be able to best me?” Roan asked, eyes glittering in humour and challenge as Raven straightened her spine.

 

“I’m sure you think you can command exactly what you want, your highness,” Raven started with a sarcastic lilt to the epithet. “But I could have that file hidden away so deep in the system no one but me would ever find it.”

 

“Then how exactly do you propose showing this thing to everyone else in the bunker?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and taking a bite of his dinner.

 

“Special screenings,” Raven said with a grin, obviously enjoying the tête-à-tête. “They used to have a thing on earth called secret cinema, I’m sure I could figure something out.”

 

“Of that I have no doubt,” Roan said with a chuckle, his free hand sneaking down below the table to squeeze Clarke’s thigh. She looked over sharply at him, but he ignored her completely.

 

“Why is this so important to you?” Clarke shifted her focus to her friend instead, trying to ignore the warm hand on her leg. She tried to discreetly shift away from him, but his fingers tightened and kept her in place.

 

“I just need to have someone to talk to about it,” Raven admitted with a heavy sigh and a very put out pout. “I finally know what happens to Jon Snow and the whole of Westeros and no one even knows who I’m talking about. It’s important for my mental wellbeing to be able to talk through my issues.”

 

“Of which there are many. And watching this show will help you?” Clarke asked and elbowed Roan as his hand made progress up her leg. He withdrew his hand with a smirk, roving hand back on his knife as he cut through his dinner.

 

“It would ensure one happy head of communications and technology,” Raven grinned at Clarke and batted her lashes.

 

“Fine,” Clarke sighed, butting her shoulder against Roan. “But you’re watching it with me. How long is it?”

 

“Eight seasons,” Raven said triumphantly. “Which in my opinion was no where near enough.”

 

“Raven,” Clarke groaned as her friend laughed knowing she had won the day. “Just don’t expect me to finish this any time soon.”

 

“You say that now,” Raven shook her head as she dug back into her dinner. “But you will be blown away.”

 

“What exactly is this story about?” Roan asked, making Raven’s eyes glitter. Clarke noticed Tyko moving through the tables toward the back wall where they sat and waved him over. She may need a distraction to derail this particular discussion.

 

Tyko sat with a nod in her direction and Raven shot him a smile as he joined her side of the table. The two had a bit of a sustained flirtation going on that amused Clarke, but she had no idea if Raven had pursued the matter any further. Either way Tyko was certainly showing interest and it seemed even the young mechanic was looking for opportunities to speak to the king’s Second on more occasions than strictly necessary. Clarke was not entirely opposed to a gentle nudge in the right direction.

 

“There’s dragons, spies, assassins, and warring kingdoms,” Raven was explaining, her natural enthusiasm making her sparkle. “Lot of blood and gore which was probably more enticing before I’d actually seen it, but still. Then of course there’s this massive army of the dead who are the real threat in the end so they have to unite against them, but no one believes the people in the know.”

 

“Sounds a bit like _Lord of the Rings_ ,” Roan mused, taking a drink and Raven’s mouth dropped open in shock.

 

“You know _Lord of the Rings_?” she asked, darting her eyes over to Clarke as if she was likely to admit to feeding him information just to mess with her.

 

Clarke shook her head at her friend, not supplying any further details. She had discussed books before the bunker with Roan, and occasionally on their nights off while here, and she knew he was incredibly well read, especially by grounder standards. It had surprised her at first as well, but the more she had learned about him, the more it fit with the man she now knew.

 

“Does he seriously know Tolkien?” Raven asked when Roan just cocked an irritated brow at her in reply.

 

“Did you expect me to be completely illiterate?” he challenged instead, cutting any reply off that Clarke would have made in his defense. Clarke laughed silently, shooting a look across the table to find Tyko biting down on his lip to contain his own laugh. He obviously knew about Roan’s impressive reading habits as well.

 

“Not illiterate,” Raven countered. “I know you can read. I’ve watched you do it. But Tolkien? You have to admit it’s a little unexpected.”

 

“I am pretty confident his work was quite extensively studied Before,” Roan said. “We had an extensive library in Azgeda. I made time to learn what I could. Would you like an itemized list of what I’ve already read to satisfy your curiosity?”

 

“That would certainly help, yes. You just continue to surprise a girl,” Raven laughed as Roan continued to look a little put out at her shock. “The fierce warrior king a secret bookworm all this time.”

 

Tyko outright laughed at Raven’s last comment causing the king to glare at both of them, and Clarke shifted closer to him. His attention instantly shifted and his eyes glittered down at her. She almost regretted her strategy, but the topic of discussion shifted away from Roan’s literary habits to more neutral ground as Tyko filled Roan in on the day’s training that he had elected to miss.

 

Clarke again found herself having to bat Roan’s hand away from her person. If he wasn’t running it along her thigh, he was rubbing circles over her lower back, fingertips just skimming the strip of bare flesh he exposed as he moved his hand over her spine. It all seemed innocent, but she knew him well enough, and he was generally quite careful when they were out in public, keeping their private affections between themselves. She was getting flustered and shifting around, wanting to focus on her promised time with Raven, but finding it impossible when he was being so very disruptive.

 

Tyko had managed to pull Raven into a discussion about television, his natural curiosity making him question everything and wanting to explore what he could. Skaikru had certainly opened up whole new worlds for him and Clarke understood why he and Roan had always been good friends. Neither fit into the traditional Azgeda mould and both seemed hungry for knowledge and actively sought it out.

 

Clarke decided the best defense against her husband was offense and at the next opportunity she slid her own hand down his thigh, hoping to divert his efforts. The look he turned on her was triumphant and she immediately regretted her strategic choice when he grabbed her wandering hand and placed it quite firmly where he wanted it. She shook her head at him as he squeezed his hand around her fingers, letting her feel just how affected he was by her proximity. Clarke decided that maybe it would be in everyone’s best interest to catch up with Raven another time. She seemed quite happy to be chatting to Tyko either way.

 

“Maybe you should show him?” Clarke interjected as casually as she could manage when Tyko mentioned being curious about seeing what an animated movie actually looked like. Raven quirked a brow, but whether it was because she thought Clarke was matchmaking or trying to escape was unclear.

 

“I have already cued up the first season for you in your room,” the brunette said, eyes flicking between Clarke and Roan. “I expect you to have watched at least one episode before tomorrow. I know you’re going to enjoy other _activities_ before you get around to it, but that certainly won’t take you all night. At least I hope not. Granted if they do, Clarke is one lucky girl.”

 

Clarke couldn’t help the blush that stole over her cheeks and swatted Roan as he laughed, caught off guard by her suggestive humour. They had all finished their meals and were just lingering in friendly company and easy conversation. Roan certainly wasn’t about to argue with the opportunity to escape and quickly rose and took their trays over to the drop station. Clarke said her goodbyes and the wink Raven shot her way as she left made her sigh and mentally start plotting revenge.

 

The walk back to their room would normally have taken them five minutes at most, but Roan made good use of every dark corner to take an opportunity to drive her crazy. There were people milling about as usual around this time of night, but it didn’t seem to affect him at all. He pulled her into a dark corner just as a group of people walked past, pressing himself urgently against her. She was enjoying the attention too much to object and was on edge but she supposed that was precisely what he wanted. A few minutes of heated kissing later they were at their door, Clarke keying in their lock code, Roan’s hands roaming freely over her hips.

 

“What has gotten into you today?” Clarke asked on a laugh as the door clicked shut behind her and he pressed her up against it, kissing her deeply. He captured one of her hands and pressed it against the front of his pants, leaving her to feel exactly how affected he was by his own little game.

 

“I don’t take well to inactivity,” he rumbled, busying himself with the buttons on her shirt.

 

“You mean, not training,” Clarke clarified, letting him undress her, enjoying the wet open mouthed kisses that he left on her newly exposed skin. “You have been busy enough of late.”

 

“Not in any pleasant way,” he argued, freeing her breasts as he tossed her bra carelessly to the side. He latched on to one of her nipples and sucked hard, kneeling down before her to pull off her shoes and starting in on the buttons on her pants. Clarke couldn’t keep up, squirming under his hands, missing any opportunity to undress him as well. Before she had a chance to correct that situation he had her naked against the door, one leg balanced over his shoulder as he feasted between her legs.

 

Clarke moaned and gripped the back of his head as he sucked on her clit before slipping a couple of fingers inside of her. She used her free hand to maintain her balance against the door; leg shaking as he expertly manipulated her toward her first orgasm. She came quickly, shuddering around his fingers, gripping his hair tight. She was wholly off kilter, more used to his drawn-out teasing rather than quick satisfaction though she certainly wasn’t complaining, running her fingers through his hair as he left kisses on her hipbones before standing before her once more.

 

“No,” Clarke said as he leaned down to pick her up. “Not a chance. That’s not on your allowed activities list.”

 

“You hardly weigh enough to cause me much effort, niron,” he argued, not letting go of her hips.

 

“Doctor’s orders,” she shook her head and pushed him backwards, not allowing her languid mind to miss that particular detail. “I will not give Doctor Michaels any reason to contest my care of you. You won’t be allowed that much leeway even when you start training again.”

 

He only hummed, but allowed her to push him toward the bed, and she wasn’t entirely certain if that constituted an acknowledgement of the rules of recovery or if it meant that he would be doing whatever he wanted once he was cleared to train again. She suspected the latter. But she pushed that thought from her mind as they reached their destination, pushing him backwards to sit on the bed as she straddled him.

 

Roan reached up for her face, happily maneuvering her back into a kiss, letting any other subject drop for the time being. She returned his passion in equal measure slipping her hands down his back to catch the bottom of his shirt and tugging it off. The scar he had been left with still bisected a large portion of his torso and was a bright pink against his skin. It had healed well, but it was an impressive sight and still required some caution regardless of what her husband thought.

 

She slid off his lap helping him out of the remainder of his clothing pushing him to lie back on the bed before peppering his chest with kisses as she ground her hips down against him. He didn’t allow her much time before her hauled her up his body lifting her and positioning her above his face before delving back into pleasing her. Clarke shuddered at the unexpected change of position and leaned back to balance her hands behind herself against his chest.

 

“Isn’t it your turn?” she asked, the thought cut off abruptly as he pushed his tongue deep inside of her. She moaned and couldn’t help her hips grinding down, his beard scratching against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs making her shiver.

 

Roan didn’t stop what he was doing to answer, preferring to make his intentions known by gripping her hips tighter and pulling her firmer against his mouth. Clarke found herself rapidly building again, her stomach clenching in anticipation. She glanced down and found his eyes dark and locked on hers, glittering wickedly up at her. She straightened up sitting forward slightly and palmed her breasts, knowing he enjoyed watching her add to her own pleasure. She plucked at her nipples and groaned as his ministrations intensified leaving her breathless as she climbed higher. When her orgasm crested she sagged forward on the bed, her body shuddering in its aftershocks.

 

She collapsed to the side as Roan slid up the bed from beneath her, gathering her against his chest. His hands continued to explore her naked skin, but her gave her time to slow her heart rate. She rubbed her cheek against his chest affectionately and he hummed happily. She ran a hand down his stomach and wrapped her fingers around his cock, giving it a firm stroke. His hips twitched and she repeated the movement, gradually increasing the pace and the firmness of her grip.

 

Roan cupped her cheek and brought her face up to his, eyes hooded and heavy before he kissed her. The urgency and playfulness from earlier had gone and been replaced by intensity and passion. Clarke was quick to slide over his hips and straddle him, giving his cock a last firm stroke before sinking down on him slowly. He groaned as she stilled when he was fully inside of her and she rolled her hips savouring the sensation of her overly sensitized skin stretching and pulling around him.

 

She opened her eyes, finding him watching her and started moving slowly above him. She knew he often liked to be in control, it was a part of his personality and an aspect she wholeheartedly enjoyed in the bedroom. But the times he gave her free reign to take her time with him and set her own pace were something special for her. He always watched her with an intent look she now knew to be the reflection of his feelings for her, allowing her the same physical control over him that she seemed to command over him emotionally. She treasured the look and always took the time to show him precisely how much he in turn meant to her.

 

Clarke moved above him, holding his gaze as their bodies drew each ounce of pleasure from each other that they could. As she neared her climax he rose, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her, holding her close as he helped guide her hips as they ground against him. Clarke sighed as she felt herself close in on breaking point, the emotional intensity of the moment heightening the physical sensations. When she shattered around him she couldn’t help but bite down hard on his shoulder, moaning deeply. Roan gripped her tightly as he joined her, groaning before capturing her lips. He leaned back, bringing them to lie down once more and rolled Clarke over to one side, keeping her leg hooked around his hip and her body flush against his own.

 

“I love you,” Clarke whispered against his lips, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensations and warmth still rippling through her body.

 

“I love you too,” he returned and she smiled. He rarely told her, even after their initial confession, so she treasured each declaration he made. He never failed to show her, but even Clarke could admit that every once in a while it was nice to hear the words spoken.

 

“What do you think Doctor Michaels will think of you after my appointment with him tomorrow?” Roan said after a moment of silence and Clarke opened her eyes with a frown.

 

“What do you mean?” she asked pulling back to look at him and finding his eyes sparkling with mischief. He pulled back from her allowing her to see the perfect imprint of her bite high on his shoulder. There was no way it would be missed when Roan went in for his appointment in the morning to clear him for training and she drew in a horrified breath making Roan chuckle.

 

“It’s not funny,” she admonished pushing at his chest.

 

“I disagree,” he returned still rumbling with laughter, holding her tight as she tried to get away from him. He swatted her backside playfully before letting her go and moving to get out of bed. He looked back at her as he sat on the edge of the bed.

 

“So do you know how to get that program to work that Raven wants you to watch?” he asked and Clarke couldn’t keep up her irritation at the sparkle of enthusiasm shining from his eyes.

 

“You actually want to watch it?” she asked, rising to sit next to him. He shrugged doing his best to look casual about it.

 

“You have been pestering me to watch something with you for a month,” he replied as if that was answer enough to the question. “We may as well kill two birds with one stone.”

 

“Sure,” Clarke laughed, hopping off the bed and walking towards the ensuite to shower off.

 

After a quick shower for both of them Clarke tried to get the first episode to play. Raven always made it look a little too easy. After a little frustration trying to get the screens to work, one of them flickered to life and she managed to cue the episode to play.

 

She smiled triumphantly and looked behind her to find Roan spread out in one of the large armchairs. He shifted to one side with a smile and Clarke tucked herself into Roan’s side as the theme music started playing. She snuggled down beside him, her legs stretched over his lap.

 

Though the show was off to a promising start, Clarke was more engaged with watching Roan’s first experience with dramatic programming. He was watching it as intently as he did his surroundings in hostile territory and it amused her greatly, but she could understand how impactful the moment must be for him. It made her recall her first moments on earth as the dropship doors opened to a whole new world. Something that she had heard stories about and had her own ideas about, but no concept of what the actual real place would encompass. It may only be a silly television episode, but after everything they had been through, she loved sharing this with him. A first for both of them that was simple and innocent without any bitter history to weigh it down. When he asked to watch the second episode, Clarke was all too happy to agree and settled down against his shoulder, happy to exist in this long-awaited moment of peace.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so the next few chapters will basically be a little glimpse into their lives in the bunker going forward, I have it set up as one chapter for each year underground. I'm sure there are some of you that want more, and I could keep writing this story for years if that was the case, but if I ever want to get to the finish line, this works best. I may do little short stories in the future, but no promises :)
> 
> I promise I will get to replying to your reviews soon. I can do that on my phone at least! But at least I've managed to get an update in because I love you guys!
> 
> Thanks for everyone's kind comments. RL is hectic and things are certainly tough, but that's how it goes. My dad is doing ok for the moment so we will hope that continues. 
> 
> Enjoy!

A year into their time underground found Clarke sitting at a table in the canteen enjoying lunch with Sagua and a Trikru warrior. The two krus had managed to bury their conflict in large part, as had many others, though there were still a fair amount of disputes. After the first couple of months of euphoria from successfully surviving wore off, small tensions escalated and fights had started breaking out from time to time. The council handled most quite easily and though there was a small section of holding cells now in the bunker. The area was rarely used beyond letting a person ride out their temper or a short-term measure to ensure compliance.

 

“Clarke!” Raven’s voice called out from across the room, the mechanic rushing as quickly as her leg would allow. Clarke turned to face her friend concerned but Raven was smiling.

 

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asked, standing as Raven came closer.

 

“I think we’ve got a chance at hailing Polis,” Raven said and Clarke returned the wide grin. “Wanna come upstairs and give it a try?”

 

Clarke nodded eagerly and made to grab her tray.

 

“I’ve got it, azplana,” Sagua said making a shooing motion with his hands and Clarke thanked him, hurrying to catch up with Raven who was moving quicker than anticipated.

 

Once in the control room, Clarke didn’t know what to do with herself, scanning screens of information she didn’t quite understand. Raven was obviously working on something, but Clarke couldn’t figure out what.

 

“Alright,” Raven said, seating herself in front of the satellite radio. “Let’s hope this shit works.”

 

Clarke bit down on her lip as Raven called out to Polis. She hailed them in two-minute intervals and the initial excitement was starting to wear off half an hour later when there was no reply. Clarke was ready to tell Raven they should try again after a break when there was a crackle across the line.

 

“R-, Raven?” a voice scratched. It was difficult to make out whose with the level of interference, but there was no doubt it was someone in Polis.

 

“You got it! Polis is that you?” Raven said into the silence, fingers busy adjusting the frequency to clear the line. She glanced over at Clarke, eyes glittering. Her hands were shaking over the button and Clarke had to clench her own hands into fists to keep in her excitement in.

 

“Am I happy to hear you!” the voice continued and as the line crackled and cleared its owner was obvious.

 

“How are things, Bellamy?” Raven asked a stupidly wide grin on her face. “It’s been a while. Still hanging in there?”

 

“Yeah, we’re good,” he replied and it was difficult to make out the emotion behind it through the static, but Clarke felt elation spread through her chest. They were safe!

 

“We’re doing well,” he continued with a low laugh. “Nothing to report on our end. Life is surprisingly normal here.”

 

“Yeah, same here,” Raven agreed with a nod, and high-fived Clarke before passing the receiver over to her.

 

“Bellamy, it’s Clarke,” she started, unable to think of anything else to say. “We’re so happy to hear you guys are okay.”

 

“Clarke,” his voice echoed back at her and she thought he sounded relieved. “You ok?”

 

“Better now that we know you guys are,” she said softly. “How’s Octavia?”

 

“Right as rain,” came the chipper reply from the younger Blake and Raven and Clarke laughed, tears catching in her throat.

 

“Happy to hear your voice,” Raven said into the radio but they all seemed at a bit of a loss at what to say. Relief coursed heavily through Clarke and she sank into a chair as her legs wobbled under her.

 

“Fuck, I’m really fucking happy to hear from you two,” Bellamy’s voice cracked over the line and Clarke suspected it wasn’t due to atmospheric instability. She laughed but the sound was choked with tears. Raven was busy wiping at her cheeks equally as affected as Clarke.

 

“Us too,” Clarke acknowledged and laughter echoed through the room.

 

“So what’s the gossip?” Octavia’s eager voice caused another eruption of laughter from the two young women. Clarke smirked and raised her eyebrows at Raven who paled. Making a quick grab of the handset she turned away from her friend.

 

“Raven’s got a new man,” she managed to get out before an indignant cry came from the brunette and she grabbed the handset.

 

“Well, don’t skimp on the details!” Octavia encouraged as the two friends battled over control over the radio. Raven’s shoulders slumped in defeat as Clarke cackled, happy to relay the story for the Blake siblings of Tyko’s wooing of her stubborn friend.

 

The four friends spent the next hour regaling each other with stories of the past year, Raven and Clarke adding in what they had heard from Monty and Jasper in Beta. It didn’t take long before the awkwardness passed and it felt like they had just seen each other the week before. As time wore on, the distance between them shrank and Clarke felt wholly optimistic about the future once again, finally admitting to herself that she had needed to hear from Polis to be fully at ease.

They signed off with promises to talk again the following morning and arranging a call between Indra, Bellamy and Roan for later the same afternoon, hoping that they could get Kane involved as well.

 

Clarke searched the bunker for Roan, finding him in the training room, as she should have expected. As soon as spotted him she couldn’t contain her excitement and raced across the room and threw herself into his arms, laughing while fresh tears tracked down her cheeks.

 

“Clarke?” Roan asked, looking more confused by her than he ever had before, making her laugh harder. He gripped her shoulders and frowned and she tried her best to get herself under control.

 

“Raven and I just talked to Polis,” Clarke said, more tears tracking down her cheeks, the relief of confirming their safety making her sag into his hands. It took a moment for the news to sink in before Roan’s face split into a wide grin, obviously as relieved as she was.

 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, curling her body into his, not caring about social propriety at a time like this. There was already a small crowd gathered around them, alarmed by her unusual behaviour, and she heard someone ask if they had heard correctly.

 

“Polis made it,” she confirmed as she raised her head from Roan’s shoulder. A cheer erupted from the assembled warriors. She turned her face back to Roan and found him watching her closely. He looked relieved and content and she knew that not knowing about Polis had been weighing as heavily on him as it had on her.

 

“When will we be able to talk to them?” Vali asked from her right, excitement evident in both his voice and expression.

 

“We will have to draw up a schedule,” Clarke said, looking at Roan in confirmation, pulling away slightly as more people approached them. He nodded and allowed her space, but kept one hand firmly on her hip.

 

“There will be many who want to talk to their friends and family,” Roan confirmed, slipping easily back into his king persona. “We will do our best to ensure everyone gets a turn. Beta will also want a chance to speak to them.”

 

Vali nodded and the warriors around them made sounds of agreement, but the news did little to dampen the excitement. There was an electric buzz in the air and Clarke had no doubt the news would spread like wildfire through Alpha. Many of the gathered people were shifting anxiously on their feet and Roan glanced around realizing training was over for the afternoon.

 

“You’re all dismissed,” he announced and smiles broke out around the room. “I will be making a formal announcement about it this evening at eighteen hundred in the canteen. I need time to confer with their leaders and confirm any pertinent details. Feel free to tell anyone you wish.”

 

“Thank you, haihefa,” a murmur of voices said in disunity as the warriors filtered out of the room, leaving Clarke alone with Roan in an empty training room.

 

“I assume you’ve already made arrangements for me,” Roan asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

“Maybe,” Clarke confirmed, moving closer again now that they were alone. “Raven booked you in talk to Indra and Bellamy in a couple of hours. She’s probably talking to Kane right now.”

 

He nodded before pulling her close and lowering his face to hers, brushing her lips softly with his own. Clarke surged up on her toes and returned his kiss deeply, pouring all her relief and excitement about the news into the kiss. Roan was certainly not one to pass up such and opportunity and happily deepened the kiss, cupping her cheek and pressing her closer with the hand that still gripped the hilt of his sword. Clarke sighed happily into his mouth, knowing there was a lot to do but loathe to stop. There would be both formal and informal celebrations in all three bunkers tonight she was certain, but she would take this time to enjoy a private moment of shared joy with Roan.

 

*~*~*

 

“You’re dropping your shoulder again,” Roan commented with a shake of his head as he easily blocked her forward parry.

 

Clarke growled before backing off, frustrated that she never seemed to remember some of the basics of close combat. Most things came so easily for her, she could admit that, but she seemed unable to get herself to stop thinking and letting the movements become natural and reflexive.

 

“I’m starting to think I’m a lost cause,” Clarke sighed and shook out her shoulders, glancing over to the side of the room and deciding a water break was in order.

 

“Not a lost cause,” Roan argued with an amused huff. “But you’re certainly making me revisit some very basic training I haven’t needed in years.”

 

“Thank you,” she cuffed his shoulder and he laughed, face splitting into a wide grin. “You know just what to say to keep a girl motivated.”

 

He slung an arm around her shoulders, but she wiggled out from under it, sticking her tongue out at him, not willing to be coddled after such a dismissive comment. It only caused him to smile wider and continue his silent laughter at her expense, but she would take that over outright mockery. She leaned her small sword up against a bench at the side of the training room, reaching for a bottle of water next to Tyko.

 

“You’re progressing well,” the amber-eyed man said, eyes containing a trace of good humour that made her think he was trying to placate her. Clarke smiled tightly at him before taking a long swallow of water. Before she could think of a reply to what she was sure was a friendly tease, she spotted Raven entering the training room, glancing around the area. It was eerily similar to the day four months earlier when she had sought Clarke out to speak with Polis for the first time in a year.

 

Clarke waved from the corner and smirked as Tyko straightened up as her friend approached. They had been involved in whatever capacity it was they chose to be for nearly a year, and Clarke was starting to feel for the man. Raven was certainly taking her time to decide whether it was just a distraction or if she was ready to let her heart get invested once more. She turned as a warm hand settled on her shoulder and offered the bottle of water to her husband who grinned down at her, eyes still glittering with laughter.

 

“You suck,” Clarke grumbled at him, but she was enjoying this new lighthearted side of him too much to say anything further. The year in the bunker, and she hoped their time together, had made his previously uncommon smiles a bit more of an everyday occurrence which made Clarke incredibly happy. He had shown a whole new side of himself, teasing her often and joking with those few people he let get close enough to trust. He acted younger, less affected by his years of struggle and cold-hearted lessons. If there was anyone on this planet who deserved a bit of happiness after all he had fought for and endured, it was Roan.

 

“Hey,” Raven said as she approached, eyeing Tyko a little shyly and Clarke wanted to shake her head. It was obvious there was more to Raven’s feelings than she wanted to let on.

 

“Raven,” Roan was the first to greet her properly, but Clarke smiled happily.

 

“So, I haven’t wanted to say anything because I wasn’t sure I was going to find something,” the dark-haired girl started, eyes darting between the three. “But I think I’ve cracked the code in the book Biala gave us.”

 

“What does that mean?” Clarke asked frowning. She hadn’t given the book any thought in a long time. She was even ashamed to admit she had basically forgotten about it.

 

“It means that I know why Igronrona Kru treasured it as they did,” Raven continued and her eyes sparkled. “They had no idea what was in it, at least not any more, but it is exactly what they said it was. A guide to rebuilding the world.”

 

Clarke glanced at Roan and watched his eyes narrow as he processed the information. Raven’s answer left them with more questions and Clarke wondered if they should move somewhere more private for this discussion.

 

“Should we discuss the details of your discovery over lunch?” Roan asked, correctly reading the situation as Raven nodded enthusiastically.

 

“I’ll arrange for some food to be brought to your suite, sire,” Tyko said as he stood. “I won’t be long.”

 

“Thank you,” Clarke said with a smile and felt compelled to add. “For the four of us.” Tyko nodded, eyes solemn, and took his leave.

 

“I’ll grab a shower upstairs,” Clarke said as she grabbed her sword and walked toward the door, slowing her pace a fraction when she noticed her rush. She was very curious about what was in the book now that she remembered it.

 

Clarke showered quickly, throwing on a fresh set of clothes and emerging with her hair still dripping wet. Roan shook his head at her with a smirk amused at her impatience when he knew they would be waiting until Tyko arrived before delving into any pertinent information. He rose and left her in Raven’s company to grab his own quick shower before lunch arrived.

 

“So,” Clarke said when they were alone, a different interrogation in mind. “How are things with Tyko?”

 

Raven pressed her lips together, whether to suppress a grimace or a smile was unclear. She glanced toward the bank of screens behind the desk rather than make eye contact with Clarke, which made the blonde frown.

 

“That bad?” she asked then, concerned for her friend. She really liked Tyko and had counted him as a friend for over a year now, but her loyalty would lie with Raven if push came to shove.

 

“No,” Raven sighed, looking a little forlorn. “I just don’t know what I think I’m doing.”

 

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked, taking a seat next to Raven on the arm of the chair.

 

“It’s just-“ she started before shaking her head. “I’m not sure what I want.”

 

“That’s fine,” Clarke said, placing a hand on her shoulder, not used to seeing her confident friend so ill at ease.

 

“You know better than anyone my history,” Raven sighed and Clarke’s heart thumped in sympathy. “After Finn and Wick I just don’t have the energy for another person who may not be who they say they are.”

 

Finn was shared history between them and Clarke knew how much it had affected her confidence and faith in relationships so she knew Raven’s faith must have been shaken even more. And after Wick had proven himself to be quite the habitual liar himself, Raven had been quick to sever all ties with the young man who had seemed to be such a good fit for her. Raven had been burned so thoroughly, she was afraid to let down the guards she had built so strongly around her heart, preferring quick releases between consenting partners rather than involved affairs of the heart. It seemed that her long-time association with Tyko had perhaps started to chip away at her armor however.

 

“Has Tyko ever given you reason to think that he’s lying to you?” Clarke asked after a moment. Raven continued to stare at the wall ahead but her shoulders shrugged. Clarke wasn’t sure what to make of that as an answer.

 

“Not as such,” Raven admitted after a while. “I just don’t think I can let anyone in again. Ever.”

 

“Oh, Rae,” Clarke sighed as she leaned down to wrap an arm around her friend. Her heart broke for Raven, she was so deserving of happiness herself. She deserved someone who would always stand in her corner and support her when she needed it. Someone who could make her laugh and keep her mind on track when she lost herself in a project. And Clarke still thought that Tyko had a chance of being a good match for her in that regard.

 

“Maybe I just don’t want to be happy,” she whispered and Clarke felt her heart crack a little at the words.

 

“You’re just scared, Rae,” Clarke whispered, pulling her friend into a hug. “And I’m not saying you should definitely give this a go with Tyko, if that’s not who you want. But I think that you deserve to give yourself a chance.”

 

“But if I let him in,” she argued, voice strained and uncertain. “What if it breaks me?”

 

“Nothing can break you,” Clarke argued, tightening her arms around her friend. “You are tougher than anyone else in this place, and even if things don’t work out, you’ll get back on your feet again. I know you, Raven. You don’t give up. Ever. You’re the reason we’re all here today. And no one, especially not someone who doesn’t appreciate you, is going to change that.”

 

Raven didn’t say anything to Clarke’s declaration, but she returned the blonde’s hug fiercely. Clarke held her tight, holding her as long as Raven wanted her to, giving her as much as she could.

 

“If it makes a difference at all,” Clarke whispered against her hair as she heard the door to the ensuite open. “You were the one who told me to take a chance when I was too afraid to let myself. And I have never been happier.”

 

Raven pulled back, eyes shining, to search Clarke’s. Her dark eyes briefly flicked over Clarke’s shoulder and she saw them soften a fraction before Raven nodded, the conversation apparently closed upon the interruption. Clarke dropped a kiss on the top of her head and straightened up, giving her friend the privacy she needed to wipe discreetly at her cheeks.

 

Clarke rose and turned toward the back of the bedroom, catching Roan watching the pair carefully, eyes concerned. She smiled softly at him and his expression cleared as he shrugged into a fresh shirt. A knock sounded at the door and Clarke went to let Tyko in, a large parcel in his hands. She took the box from him and settled it on the small table, setting out portions for each of them.

 

“So,” Clarke started once everyone was settled. She was too nervous to eat. Between Raven’s heartache and the unknown promise of knowledge she only picked at her portion.

 

“The book is full of locations of underground facilities all around what used to be the United States and Canada,” Raven answered, eyes alight.

 

“What kind of facilities?” Roan asked, sitting forward.

 

“Army bases, research facilities of all forms, medical research labs, secret weapons labs, basically anything you have ever read about in government conspiracies,” Raven continued, but saw that her audience didn’t quite keep up. It would be fair to assume that neither of the Azgeda men had much in the way of experience with government conspiracies of old.

 

“The U.S. Government had a series of facilities around the country that could withstand a nuclear attack,” she started again. “They contain knowledge and supplies to rediscover information form the world Before. There are medical research labs that appear to have a connection with what used to be called the Centre for Disease Control. They have databases of knowledge about every medical discovery over the course of human existence. If the databases there are still intact, we could get back to a time where medical science was at its peak. If we add that to the discoveries we made on the Ark we would have a complete history of medicine. We would have the knowledge and possibly the facilities to start producing medicine, vaccines, we could do research with proper technology.”

 

Clarke drew in a breath, eyes widening. Was it even possible for these facilities to have survived? Even in part? It had been more than a century since they had been possibly buried beneath the ground, if they hadn’t been destroyed.

 

“And that’s not all,” Raven continued, excited now that she saw that they understood. “The location of the federal archives and library isn’t far from here. That will contain blue prints, textbooks, guidebooks, any information the government managed to collect from the world. There may be art and relics. We could build airplanes, helicopters, cars, trains, maybe even rockets for space exploration, anything the world had before. Probably not right away, but over time. We could lay the groundwork for future generations to get back to where we were before. We could produce energy, rebuild basic infrastructure, maybe fix some of what has survived.”

 

“That’s incredible,” Clarke whispered.

 

“And you think these places still exist?” Roan asked.

 

“Probably,” Raven nodded. “Maybe not in their entirety, maybe not in a functional state, but we may be able to get them there. Even if we only get pieces of what is there, it could be enough to ensure that the people we saved thrive.”

 

The group sat in silence for a moment, absorbing what Raven had revealed. It all seemed too good to be true. But Clarke knew there would have been some kind of a plan. Jaha had hinted at it long ago, back when she had doubted her ability to save the people before Ilian came and destroyed their last hope. When he had been searching for the bunker, he had mentioned that there would have been a plan in place for when things inevitably came to a head.

 

“There’s more in the book,” Raven said. “It seems like it’s a listing of bunkers in allied countries. England, France, Australia, and more. But I haven’t been able to get through that yet. I want to make sure I was correct about the facilities first.”

 

“Are you saying there may be more people in bunkers around the world?” Clarke asked surprised. “Like Mount Weather?”

 

“Well hopefully not like them,” Raven said, glancing at the Azgeda men cautiously. “But there may be people somewhere in the world. We have no way of knowing. But it’s possible.”

 

“Fuck,” Clarke said unsure of what to make of the information. On the one hand it may mean that there would be more people on the planet, more people who were living underground waiting for an opportunity to see the sun again. On the other hand it meant that there was potential risk in the future if it ever came to a competition for resources. She glanced over at Roan and found him watching her grimly.

 

“We don’t know what it means,” she said to him, seeing the worry he was trying to hide. “And they may not be able to survive on the surface, just like the people in Mount Weather. That’s why they wanted to use Skaikru for.”

 

“For transfusions?” Tyko asked. “That is what they used our people for.”

 

“They wanted to use our bone marrow to make a treatment for themselves similar to how we thought the nightblood solution would work,” Clarke explained and saw Roan straighten up beside her. She realized that she had never explained why the events of the mountain had unfolded as they had. Why she had made the decision to pull the lever that day. Why she still woke in a cold sweat some nights, small bodies heaped in a classroom as a soundtrack of screams played in the background.

 

“We would have given it to them,” she admitted quietly and Tyko frowned. “But they wanted it immediately. They would have killed us all so they could survive.”

 

“They were already killing us to survive,” the warrior pointed out, eyes flashing.

 

“Yes,” Clarke agreed, and her eyes flickering over to Roan and found him watching her intently. “I am not condoning what they did. I am just explaining what they were trying to do. By using our bone marrow they developed resistance to the radiation levels on the surface, they could survive without suits for the first time in generations. The grounders had evolved that immunity through natural selection. Skaikru have it due to the natural radiation in space, so it was similar enough and more compatible with their genetic structure allowing them to form natural immunity. It probably wouldn’t have lasted through to any children they produced, but that’s not relevant. The details get a bit complicated, but I’m happy to explain it to you if you wish.”

 

“They deserved their fate,” Tyko growled and Clarke knew he had lost someone to the mountain. He shook his head apparently through with any discussion of the reasons the Mountain Men did what they did to survive. Not that it was much different than slaughtering another tribe for territory, but she wasn’t about to point that out.

 

Clarke looked across the table to Raven who had retreated inside herself at the turn in the conversation. It was never easy for her to discuss what had happened to her and the other delinquents in the Mountain, though she seemed to take it harder than most. Harper and Monty seemed as if they dealt well with the trauma, but they had been some of the first to be experimented on. Raven knew about Fox and the other four kids who had died before her and probably thought that being subjected to the extraction would be the last thing she experienced. Clarke tried to smile when Raven met her eyes, but it fell flat.

 

“Even if there are more like them,” she said, hoping to reassure her friend. “We know our advantage over them now, we can approach them differently. Without any preconceptions of peaceful intentions.”

 

Raven nodded and sighed before taking a sip of her drink. Clarke moved her eyes to Roan who was watching the whole exchange. She kept her expression open and sad, not wanting to delve deeper into the painful memories, but she would answer any questions, especially if they were potentially pertinent for the future. He narrowed his eyes and turned his focus back to Raven.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly and Raven’s eyes shot to his. “I still stand by what we did with Luna, but if I had known, I may have approached the situation differently.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Raven said. “But thank you. Abby didn’t object, so the victim votes were split 50/50.”

 

“It’s in the past,” Clarke said when an uncomfortable silence settle around them. “We move forward, as always.”

 

“And we don’t know there’s anyone else left,” Raven shrugged, happy to move on. “No use worrying about something we don’t know about. I’m not even sure we can get to them, or communicate with them at any stage. Not to mention potential language barriers. Language has surely evolved over time. It did here.”

 

“Out of necessity,” Roan explained. “To give us a way of communicating among kru without being understood by others.”

 

“But in Polis you all speak similarly,” Clarke pointed out. “Trigedasleng isn’t that far removed from Azgedasleng from what I have learned.”

 

“The main structure is the same,” he acknowledged. “But we have regional dialects and words the other kru do not use as do the others.”

Clarke shook her head, surprised that there was still so much left to learn. It didn’t help that Roan seemed especially talented at slipping in a new random bit of information into casual conversation at any given time.

 

“Well, that’s certainly news,” Clarke said. “But we can’t do anything about the sites until we’re above ground again?”

 

“No,” Raven replied with a shake of her head. “Even if they were connected to some kind of network it would have been destroyed by now. It would have deteriorated decades ago and eventually become obsolete. The only reason Alpha and Beta can communicate still is because it was specifically built to last centuries and it was buried so deep there wasn’t any major risk it would be affected by surface shift.”

 

“But you can make a list of what’s available?” Roan asked. “So we can prioritize what to pursue when we get reestablished above ground?”

 

“Absolutely,” Raven nodded. “That’s easy. Like I said, I’ve only just started going through which facilities are potentially available. I’ll make a proper list once I do. I should be able to cross-reference with the databases here to get an idea of what each location may contain as well.”

 

Clarke watched Raven for a while, it seemed she was holding something back. Raven met her eyes and Clarke frowned.

 

“What else?” Clarke asked and Raven sighed.

 

“There is a whole section on the Eligius Corporation,” she started and Clarke sifted through her memories from her lessons on the Ark. A small shred of memory occurred to her.

 

“The mining colony, right?” Clarke asked and Raven nodded. “Why would there be information on them?”

 

“I only noticed because I came across an article in Becca’s bunker about contact being lost with them before the nuclear fallout,” Raven explained. “I’m not sure what it means, honestly. The people here on earth obviously didn’t have time to investigate the matter any further. They were who Becca initially made nightblood for, to help them survive long-term exposure to space radiation.”

 

“Could that mean they’re still out there?” Clarke said, glancing between Roan and Tyko and explained further. “Eligius had mining colonies out in one of the asteroid belts. Like Raven said, contact was lost some time just before they started bombing and the last shuttles left earth. They have never been heard from again and it has always been assumed that they had a catastrophic system failure of some sort and all died.”

 

“But if they didn’t, could they come back?” Roan asked, looking between the two women.

 

“Theoretically?” Raven raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “If they survived, it’s a possibility. Not a large one, but a possibility. They would also need a pretty enormous incentive to come back to earth.”

 

“But your space station was dying, correct?” the king asked, running a weary hand over his face. Though he had been learning about technology and space travel, it was still a difficult concept for him to grasp in such a short time frame.

 

“The Ark was really just an amalgamation of whatever technology we had from the different countries that sent stations up,” Raven tried to explain. “It can’t be claimed that it was the most technologically advanced ship available at the time and when they joined all the stations together they had to improvise. It meant that systems were supporting others that were initially incompatible and were forced to work together. Like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit. This put a big strain on them that eventually led to issues producing oxygen. The mining colony won’t have those theoretical problems because they were a privately funded operation. They had the most sophisticated technology available at the time and had the capacity to survive five hundred years in space if they wanted to easily, probably more. They had a group of research scientists with them so they could have continued to develop their knowledge over time.”

 

“So if they had decided not to return to earth and cut off communication on purpose?” Roan prodded and the group fell silent, no one needing to answer.

 

“But there is a larger chance they had systems issues and have all died,” Raven pointed out, but with a little less conviction than before.

 

“Who did they employ to mine the asteroids?” Tyko asked and Raven paled a little.

 

“It was a prison colony,” Raven said softly. The group descended into silence, a new source of potential danger revealed. It was never going to be easy to survive this new world.

 

“So we monitor the skies,” Roan said firmly. “We know there is a possibility, no matter how small, that they survived and that they may return. As long as we are prepared, we can maintain the upper hand. You did not know anyone survived the initial fallout when you came down, maybe they won’t either.”

 

“That’s a very optimistic assertion,” Raven commented wryly.

 

“It is the best we have,” Roan said with a shake of his head. “This is at best theoretical. They may not be alive, as you said. But it’s unwise not to be aware of the possibility or be unprepared for the worst case scenario.”

 

The conversation moved on to different topics as the meal drew on and soon enough the food and drink was gone and everyone had other duties to attend to. Roan and Tyko cleared the debris from the table while Clarke and Raven rinsed out the glasses. Once everything was assembled Tyko grabbed the box and volunteered to swing by the scullery on his way to supervise training. Raven glanced up at him discreetly and cleared her throat.

 

“I’ll walk with you,” she said, shooting a look at Clarke before wrapping her arms around her friend with a quiet thank you. Clarke hoped that she would finally take the time to figure out what she truly wanted and smiled as the door shut behind her friends.

 

“She is about to either make Tyko a very happy man or break his heart,” Roan commented as he came up behind her and she turned to face him.

 

“I’m leaning toward the former, but I can’t say for sure,” Clarke agreed and saw a smile break over his features. It was sweet to see how much he cared for his friend’s happiness. “But either way, it won’t be easy. She’s been through a lot.”

 

“We all have,” he mused and grabbed her hips, pulling her pelvis flush up against him. “When do you have to be at the clinic?”

 

“No clinic today,” she shook her head as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I was supposed to have class at three. We had to move it to tomorrow morning because the big kids have organized a production for the little ones so they’ll be busy today.”

 

“So you have nowhere to be for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked as he smiled wolfishly down at her, eyes glittering with promise.

 

“Free as a bird,” she whispered, pushing up on her toes to kiss him softly. She felt him smile into the kiss before he returned it, deepening it as soon as she parted her lips for him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her hard against his chest before pulling back a fraction, resting his forehead against hers.

 

“Considering I was supposed to have trained up until now,” he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I have a bit of spare time that I need to fill.”

 

Clarke laughed and rolled her eyes at his not so subtle hints. They had both been busy the last few weeks. Clarke was still teaching art to the younger students twice a week and led craft time one morning a week for the youngest. She loved spending time with them. It was time for her to share something she loved with a receptive audience and seeing how much they enjoyed the time made it even more special. She still worked at the clinic four days a week and helped with some council meetings, but she preferred to leave the politics to Roan and the others who had an actual passion for it.

 

Roan spent most of his days in some form of meeting or discussion. He was involved with most aspects of the running of the bunker, learning about each part that kept it running and overseeing any issues that came up. He was wholly dedicated to the people and to the Coalition itself and probably knew more about how the bunkers worked than anyone else at this point. There were biweekly meetings with the leaders of both Beta and Polis where they went through any problems that had arisen and discusses the current state of affairs. Roan often sat going through the meticulous notes he had made during the meetings at night when she came home from her clinic duties.

 

The ten clans had been very skeptical of having an Ice Nation king, but as the years wore on, Roan proved himself to be the leader they needed. He was patient and compassionate and took the time to look at a problem for all possible angles, relying on the expertise of others when he himself lacked the skill or knowledge to make a decision. It was quite obvious that the people were happy under his calm and steady rule. He was frequently consulted with by the other bunker leaders to help mediate disputes and discuss matters that came up unexpectedly and was always relied on to have the final say in any matters of importance.

 

“Next you’re going to tell me you need to make up for the exercise you missed out on by skipping the end of your training session,” Clarke grumbled with a roll of her eyes.

 

“Now that you mention it,” he said with a laugh before capturing her lips again and backing them up to their bed. His hands slipped up the bottom of her shirt, his fingertips running along the base of her spine making her shiver.

 

She had discovered that Roan loved kissing. It had initially seemed an odd thing for him to be so engaged in but she shared his particular proclivity for it. Once they had stripped off their clothes, he sat back down on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his lap as he indulged in his oral fixation. He loved to explore the different areas of her mouth and often changed between light nips and biting kisses to deep, wet explorations that left her grinding down on his thighs in anticipation. He shifted her hips so she was positioned over one thigh allowing her to find the friction she was desperately seeking while he continued to explore her mouth.

 

Clarke loved moments with him like this. When he truly let go and gave in to sensation in such a selfish way, as much as he could be selfish in this particular area. When he wanted to take a part of her that he enjoyed and did it with an unrestrained appetite. His hands roamed her back and pulled her close before he left her lips to suck wet marks down her throat, tasting her skin and breathing her in.

 

Clarke ground down against his thigh throwing her head back and giving him better access to her throat, the soft scrape and tickle of his beard leaving her skin extra sensitized. His hands closed on her hips once more, guiding her undulations against him. One hand left her hip and caught the back of her head, shifting her focus back down on his eyes. They were dark and heavy and his lips were pink and swollen from their kisses.

 

She wove her fingers into his hair, cupping his jaw between her hands and angling her lips over his. She explored him in the same way that he had her, dipping her tongue into his mouth, running it over his teeth and gums, stroking against the edges of his tongue. He hummed contentedly, something Clarke had started to equate to a great cat purring happily when she did something he particularly enjoyed. She gripped his hair tighter and deepened the kiss as felt the rising tingle spread up into her belly. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge and when she pulled back from his lips, panting softly against him as she increased the movements of her hips.

 

“Let go, Clarke,” Roan whispered, voice deep and rasping, stirring something deep and primal inside of her. He nibbled along her throat, sucking kisses leaving lightly flushed patches behind. Clarke rocked harder against his thigh gripping his hair tight, tugging on the thick strands in a way that never failed to get a deep rumbling growl from him.

 

“Kiss me,” she whispered as his grip on the back of her neck tightened and the hand on her hip would definitely be leaving bruises behind. He surged up and as he devoured her mouth he flexed his thigh and she was lost to the waves of pleasure that made the muscles in her own legs pull tight and tore a moan from her. By the time Roan was sucking lightly on her lower lip she was shaking and his hands moved to pull her in close.

 

“I thought you were going to make up for the exercise you missed out on,” Clarke teased, running her fingertips through his scalp. “Not sure if just sitting there qualifies.”

 

“Are you challenging me, Wanheda?” he asked, a warm undercurrent of humour lacing his tone as he adjusted his grip on her hips. “Or just accusing me of laziness?”

 

Clarke raised an eyebrow at him, not vocalizing her answer. She squealed in surprise as he rose up suddenly with her in his arms. Her hands slipped out of his hair to grip his shoulders as he stood, a mischievous smirk on his face. He repositioned his arms to slide under her thighs before lowering her down and entering her in one firm thrust. She felt the tendons in his arms shift as he raised her once again and brought her down, lifting her with each pass and rocking into her. The position left her wide open to him and Clarke was powerless to help in any way.

 

Roan increased his pace, and Clarke gripped his shoulders tighter as his cock hit just where she needed it to deep inside her. She leaned down and ran her lips over his throat, nibbling lightly as she went along, cognizant of not upsetting the delicate balance he had to maintain. When she straightened to look down on him his face and chest were flushed pink and he was panting from the effort, but there was still a glint of challenge in his blue eyes. She smiled before letting out a low moan, caught up in the feel of him.

 

It didn’t take long before Clarke was clutching hard on his shoulders, the tingling pull of her orgasm closing in and she leaned forward, angling her hips as best as she could. She adjusted her grip on his shoulders allowing her to slip one hand down to rub at her clit and it wasn’t long before she came, her inner muscles clamping down hard. Roan’s pace stuttered and she moved both arms back around his shoulders to hold him close. A handful of hard thrusts later Roan groaned and held her close as he emptied himself inside of her, panting heavily, arms shaking from the effort.

 

He took a step back and sat down on the bed behind him, and Clarke unhooked her legs from around his hips so he could lay back. She slipped off him, shifting to lie beside him and watched as his breathing slowed and the flush of exertion faded from his chest and cheeks. He looked over at her, eyes daring her to say anything and Clarke bit down on her lower lip.

 

“Feel better now that you got your workout in?” she asked, unable to resist the tease.

 

She laughed as he growled at her before rolling on top of her and kissing her senseless. He kissed her until she was unable to remember precisely why she had been teasing him to begin with and was only concerned with the slide of his lips against her own and his thumb as it caressed the stars on her cheeks. She wound her hands around his torso, holding him close, fingertips tracing the ridges of the wings spanning his back.

 

“I think I need another shower,” she said after he propped himself up on his elbows above her.

 

“Is that an invitation?” he rumbled, eyes glittering down at her.

 

“Maybe,” Clarke said with a grin before launching off the bed and racing to the ensuite, her husband hot on her heels.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! Life is very hectic at the moment, but I'm trying to get some time in to finish this off for you all. 
> 
> I think it will be 27 chapters all together, but I'm just refining the end a bit and writing the last chapter now. When I have time, which admittedly isn't often, but hopefully I will have more starting again next week.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Clarke smiled at the small group of children as they trooped out of the classroom, proudly carrying their latest creation from her art class. She could admit that she loved her afternoons teaching the kids and almost regretted she had only agreeing to three a week. She had recently decided she would ask about adding a class or two for older bunker members, maybe recently out of school, plus a weekend class for any adults who wanted to draw as a group. She busied herself clearing up the detritus left behind by the eager children, carefully sweeping up every last scrap of paper and putting it in the paper-recycling bin.

 

The bunker was running like a well-oiled machine after two years under ground. They had perfected waste recycling with the help of a couple of particularly clever young boys who had worked out a system to recycle and reuse basically every scrap of material produced by the population as part of a school project. Paper was broken down and remade into a variety of materials. What little plastic they had was melted down and refined and remade into usable supplies and they had a few student engineers working on creating new tools for the population in the bunkers to use and make. Being isolated and below ground without the ability to roam and explore had resulted in a lot of innovative ideas and a lot of refinement of existing technology.

 

There were still plenty of conflict and squabbles had among people. They still had plenty of use for the small series of lockable cells they had made, but it was generally used as a deterrent to ensure good behaviour and for tempers to die down, rather than for any long-term punishment. But for the most part, people were happy and got along as well as they could. If there were accusations of injustice it was brought before a selection of kru leaders and compensation was diplomatically agreed upon. So far the system had worked, and everyone knew that there they had to be prepared for conflict when they lived in such small spaces for such a long time.

 

“Finished for the day?” Fiona, one of the head teachers asked as she popped her head inside the now empty classroom. She was from the Blue Cliff Clan and had taken over as head teacher a few months ago, making the school run more efficiently than before and incorporating more practical lessons into their daily sessions. It was important that the children learned even from a young age that they would have to contribute to society.

 

“Just about,” Clarke smiled and put away the last box of art supplies before carefully marking what had been used that day on the balance sheet.

 

“I’d love to look over the scheduling with you for the next couple of months if you have a minute,” the brunette asked as Clarke closed the cupboard and walked over to the sink to wash her hands.

 

“Sure, I have some time,” Clarke agreed as she dried her hands. “I have a video meeting in just over an hour but I want to stop by the canteen and grab a drink and a snack. Why don’t you join me?”

 

“Absolutely,” Fiona smiled as she fell into step beside Clarke and they kept conversation light and focused on their mutual students as they walked up to the canteen.

 

Clarke and Fiona ran through the schedules for the next couple of months as they sipped their tea and shared some fruit, working out the last few kinks in some conflicts between planned activities for the children. They wanted to keep a common theme between what the children were learning about in school with what they were learning in class and with a recent early crop in farm station, some things had to be readjusted.

 

All children, no matter their kru affiliation learned about the various aspects of technology and life on the ground. They had a week dedicated to the history of each kru and taught the children about their common customs. Skaikru did their best to make technology a part of everyone’s education as well as everyday life. There were special classes for adults as well to teach them about technology and how it grew and changed which had helped dispel some of the fear of it over time.

 

Schedules rebooked and additional art classes penciled in, Clarke said her goodbyes to her friend and made her way up to the communications room for her briefing session.

 

“Hey, Clarke,” James smiled at her from his spot at the monitor bank.

 

“Hi, James,” Clarke returned and moved through the room. “Anything unusual?”

 

“Nope,” James replied, pointing at one of the screens that showed a picture of what remained of the world above the bunker. “But I think I saw movement of some sort in the sky. Maybe some birds managed to survive after all.”

 

“Well, we have to hope something survived don’t we?” Clarke remarked. They had managed to get a couple of the cameras back online after some tinkering and forethought by Raven. They had buried some cameras and had managed to get the mechanics up and working again so they could raise them out of the ground once more leaving them with two cameras providing them images of the barren landscape around the bunkers.

 

It seemed that there were already some signs of life. It wasn’t the first time movement had been reported in the sky so there seemed to be some hope that some species of animals had managed to survive once again. They had yet to see any larger animals but there hadn’t been any indication that the plant life in the area had started to grow as of yet. Temperatures were also still well below normal, typical of the increased cloud cover and dust debris in the atmosphere.

 

“The video linked is cued up for you, Clarke,” James added and Clarke walked through into the communication room where the camera and video link monitors were set up. She smiled seeing Bellamy’s curly head already seated in front of his screen looking bored as he waited for the others to join in. Clarke quickly took a seat and switched on her connection.

 

“Hi, Bellamy,” she said with a smile to the camera and he straightened up and returned the smile with a lopsided grin. “How are things?”

 

“Good,” he said with a nod. “We had a bit of an incident with some food theft last night, but Indra and O are looking into it.”

 

“A big one?” Clarke frowned, food theft was one issue that seemed common between all the bunkers, not because people weren’t provided with what they needed and more than enough, but it seemed to be something to pass the time. Often it was just teenagers trying to rebel a little.

 

“Nah,” Bellamy shook his head. “We think we know who it was. We found a bunch of teenagers with quite severe hangovers this morning so we are just trying to figure out what happened to the food. They’ll be on scullery and toilet duty for a month. At least. Some of them are repeat offenders.”

 

The other blank screen flickered to life before Clarke had a chance to say anything else and Monty’s face filled a third screen in the room.

 

“Sorry guys,” he said, running an agitated hand through his hair. “I got caught up with Jasper and the drones. I think we’ve finally made some progress.”

 

“That’s fantastic!” Clarke said, knowing the two friends had been putting all their technical skills to use trying to get a few drones up and running that they had found in the stores of Beta bunker. If they could get them linked up to a video feed and then found a way to release them outside without compromising the bunker seals, they could theoretically get a better idea of what was happening in the world around the bunkers.

 

“Yeah, it’s slow, but I suppose we’ve got the time,” Monty said with a small smile. “So what’s the what?”

 

“Business as usual here,” Clarke said with a shrug. “Nothing to report. We haven’t had any issues this week. Farm station has to harvest the spinach crop early but that’s about as exciting as it gets. And we have our first successful crop of saffron, which is miniscule but is apparently reason to celebrate. We may get a whole half a gram of stamen from the flowers, but I doubt it. We had to reschedule a whole month of art class because of it. We’re going to teach the kids about making natural dyes. At least we have enough beets to make red. Thrilling stuff, I know.”

 

Both Bellamy and Monty laughed and Clarke smiled. It was nice having nothing of import to report. There had been some instability with restless warriors in Alpha for a few months that had resulted in a lot of fights breaking out over supposed slights. But Roan and Vali had started a skills competition to showcase their talents and hopefully channel restlessness. Currently the worst offenders were well occupied with training for it. The suggestion had been taken up by the other bunkers as well and had seemed to cut off some more aggressive tendencies. People needed a way to focus their energy and frustrations from being cooped up in close quarters, especially some of the more nomadic grounder clans and the hunters who were used to spending long stretches of time on their own.

 

“Same here,” Bellamy agreed, eyes darting over to someone else who had obviously just walked into the room. “There’s not much to report. The food theft is really a non-issue, and most people are getting along well. O has started training the kids to fight, which I’m less than thrilled about, but it’s keeping them occupied. They need to run off their energy too somehow.”

 

“Blame Roan for that one,” Clarke said. Roan had started training the young kids three afternoons a week and added additional teachers after it had become one of the most popular activities for the kids in Alpha. He had recently added a class for the youngest kids who seemed to be equal parts terrified and thrilled being the centre of the king’s attention for thirty minutes.

 

“I plan to,” Bellamy said with a grin, no trace of his old animosity left toward the king.

 

Roan and Bellamy often spoke and had found common ground in their passion for their people. They were both exceptionally skilled at finding compromises that seemed to work between Skaikru and grounder krus, an area where some of the biggest cultural divides still existed. They had weekly video calls along with Marcus Kane discussing and sharing strategies for working together, it was an ever evolving methodology but the men seemed to draw strength and patience from their shared frustrations and their people benefited from it.

 

Monty, Bellamy, and Clarke went on to run through a few events of note they had encountered during the week and soon finished their official discussion. They indulged in a bit of gossip as well, inquiring about the friends they were separated from. It seemed Harper and Monty were going through a bit of a rough patch, but he was optimistic that things would settle again soon. Jasper had finally moved on after treatment with Abby and finding a few new friends among the grounders. He still had issues but seemed to be a little more optimistic about his future for the first time in a long while.

 

Bellamy relayed quietly that his sister was quite happy in her arranged marriage these days and Ilian had wormed his way under her defenses. Even an overprotective brother could admit that they seemed to be a good match and complimented each other. He then shyly revealed that he had started seeing a young girl from Delfikru who he had been working with quite closely on his own pet project. He had made a proposal to record all of the various histories of the different krus and to start assembling a large database of their culture and language to preserve for whatever future they would all have together. It appeared that this young woman shared his passion and that made Clarke smile, happy to see the contented sparkle return to Bellamy’s eyes. It seemed things were finally moving forward for the Blake siblings as well.

 

Clarke reported on Raven’s growing relationship with Tyko. They had been ‘officially involved’ for a few months and though Raven was still cautious, the couple seemed to be happily building something together. Tyko understood the reason behind Raven’s caution and she had learned to share more of her insecurities with the warrior. Clarke hoped they would make it, but was just happy to see her friend finally relax and unwind a little more. She had started taking actual time off work to enjoy a bit of quiet time with Tyko and that was amazing in and of itself.

 

Soon enough their time was over and the three friends said their goodbyes and moved on with the rest of their days. They would speak again soon, but Clarke couldn’t help the sadness that always lingered a little at how planned her time with her friends had to be these days.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke smiled as she watched Roan instruct the youngest children on proper stances. The oldest was about six and they all watched the king with awed attention as he moved through a very simple series of steps with a wooden sword. Clarke had come down to the training room to meet him before dinner, always enjoying the chance to watch the last few minutes with his class. He had a way with the kids and it didn’t surprise her that his lessons were the ones they looked forward to the most.

 

Roan glanced up and spotted her, a small smile quirking his lips. He gathered the little clutch of children around him, crouching down to their level and speaking to the group. Clarke wasn’t close enough to hear what he said, but the rapt attention on all their faces was indication enough that the children felt important. As he dismissed the group he stayed crouched down, answering questions from a few enthusiastic boys who stayed behind, having plucked up their courage to speak with the king.

 

Clarke straightened away from where she was leaning against the wall when he stood and walked toward her.

 

“Good lesson?” she asked as he leaned down and dropped a kiss on her cheek. He was always happy after teaching the children. It seemed to rejuvenate him and encourage a different side of him.

 

“They are learning quickly,” he said as he walked beside her to where the fake weapons were kept to leave the wooden sword behind.

 

“They certainly love their lessons,” Clarke said with a smile. “They have been begging me to make their own weapons for class but I have tried to explain to them that making swords out of paper or clay may not be the best idea.”

 

“Perhaps they should have a lesson on weapon casting,” Roan mused and Clarke shook her head.

 

“Maybe when they are old enough to train with them,” she said and he smiled down at her. “And when we have access to more material. I think there will be enough time for them to learn weapon making when they are old enough to understand a bit more about them.”

 

Roan shrugged, obviously less concerned about it than she was. They walked the remaining way to the canteen mostly in comfortable silence, knowing from experience that they would often be stopped by various people en route and their expectations were met in full. Roan was stopped to consult on two matters pertaining to council matters and the annual celebration they were having two nights from now to mark the third anniversary of praimfaya.

 

When they had finally settled down to dinner they could allow themselves some time to speak openly, though as always they made sure that they sat somewhere that made people feel comfortable enough to approach them if they needed to. Clarke shared details of her day and her conversation with Bellamy and Monty. Roan returned the favour and told her about what would be expected of her at the anniversary feast.

 

This year they had decided on a more casual celebration, foregoing the multiple speeches for one simple address and a memorial service in the morning. Many families were still grieving and wanted to mark the sacrifices friends and family had made. But as it had every year, it would inevitably become a night filled with music, dancing and a little overindulgence by most members of the bunker. They had decided to mark the two different sides of the day in separate events, adding a bit more gravity to the memorial and allowing for unity throughout the day.

 

“Is Marcus making the memorial address this year?” Clarke asked as she finished off the pasta on her plate. She had spoken to her mother the day before and Abby had mentioned that Marcus was interested in taking responsibility for some public events since Roan had to shoulder so much of the political and public work on everyone’s behalf.

 

“He wants to, yes,” Roan answered as he looked around the canteen.

 

“Why are you reluctant to let him?” Clarke asked after watching him for a moment.

 

“It feels like something I ought to do,” he answered after a moment. “But perhaps sharing the duty is more important.”

 

“Only if you want to,” Clarke said, not entirely disagreeing with his reasoning. “I agree that you shouldn’t give it over completely, tell him that he can help with the monthly address in the future instead. Maybe you could both speak at the memorial in the morning and ask someone to do so as well in Polis. It would give a sense of unity over the three bunkers if a leader from each could speak. I’d suggest Indra but I doubt she would agree.”

 

“No, I doubt it,” Roan agreed with a soft smile. “But I think your idea has merit. Maybe we should ask the Polis council who would like to speak for their people.”

 

“I would say that’s a good idea,” Clarke agreed, pushing her tray away and raising her eyebrows at Roan when she caught him smiling at her. “What?”

 

“For someone who isn’t interested in working with the council, you’ve got a good head for it,” he complimented warmly.

 

“You’re only saying that because I supported your idea,” Clarke replied with a grin as she stood to gather their trays so they could head back to their room for the night. She’d had a long day and looked forward to a few hours of peace and quiet, tucked away from watchful eyes.

 

“You’re always going to argue with me, aren’t you?” Roan asked instead of denying her statement. He grabbed their empty glasses and followed her over to the drop station. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door before she could answer, apparently just as anxious as she was to get away from the crowds in the canteen.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke straightened the crown in her curls as she stood off to one side of the room after the formal part of the priamfaya celebrations had concluded. She still disliked it, but had learned to ignore the weight after an hour or two. Music was filling the large room and tables had been pushed aside to allow people to dance and move freely around the area. Drinks and food were set up along one wall of the canteen and people were happily indulging in both.

 

“Another one done and dusted,” Raven remarked as she looped her arm through Clarke’s. The blonde looked over at her friend who smiled over at her.

 

“At last,” Clarke agreed. She had finally agreed to also speak during the day’s celebrations but only as part of the feast in the evening. It felt less formal and official and she had been nervous enough having to speak before council meetings before. Knowing every single one of the survivors of the three bunkers would be listening to her words had terrified her and only Roan’s reassuring hand at the base of her spine as she spoke had kept the tremor out of her voice and her spine straight. She had kept her words short and to the point and had let out a long breath of relief when she was finished.

 

Roan had kissed the back of her hand and declared the commencement of the feast and now they were free to enjoy the evening. Raven looked happy as she watched the people milling happily about. She had officially come as Tyko’s partner and he had looked proud to have her on his arm for the evening. He was currently at Roan’s side as he stood with the council members, eyes ever watchful as he still took his duty as Second as seriously as ever.

 

“Can you imagine if we get to do this above ground in a couple of years?” Raven asked and her question had a wistful edge to it as she shook her head. It seemed Clarke wasn’t the only one who missed the ground above them.

 

“That would be amazing,” Clarke agreed as she sipped her drink. “I miss the stars.”

 

“Yeah, it’s strange isn’t it?” Raven nodded. “I guess it’s cuz we’ve always had them. Even in space, but it’s the one thing that stands out the most. I miss fresh air and the trees and all those amazing flowers too, but the stars, they’re something else.”

 

“I know, it just feels odd without them,” the blonde said, smiling as Roan and Tyko broke away from the group and approached. She watched Tyko smile softly at Raven as he placed a hand on her back and it made Clarke’s heart warm, hoping her friend had finally found happiness.

 

“Everything good?” Clarke asked as Roan wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close against his side. With the jovial atmosphere and people mainly occupied with themselves and each other, he was bound to be a little freer with his affections in public.

 

“Everyone is happy,” he confirmed and hummed happily when she moved closer into his arms, wrapping them around his waist and facing him.

 

She knew he was happier now that the speeches were done and the formalities were over and everyone was free to just enjoy themselves. He smiled at her when she squeezed her arms around him, before tucking herself into his side. Sometimes she wanted to just be a young girl out with the man she loved and she planned to ensure at least parts of tonight would go that way for her.

 

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” Clarke asked, glancing over at the table, hungry now that the nervous butterflies has stopped rioting in her belly.

 

“I’ll go,” he said with a shake of his head. “You stay here and keep Reyes out of trouble.”

 

“At what point should I start taking offence to these things, your majesty?” Raven piped up, overhearing the exchange. “I seem to recall that out of the two of us, you’re the one with the longer track record of getting yourself into mortal peril.”

 

Roan laughed as he moved away from Clarke, not bothering with a reply as Tyko joined him to got get some food from the tables. Clarke was relieved at his offer, knowing that though he didn’t count on it, or expect it, most likely he would be sent straight to the front of the long line and back in a third of the time it would have taken her. She would be offered the same concessions, but couldn’t ever allow herself to utilize them and ended up embarrassed by people insisting she take advantage of her position. Roan was more natural, having grown up with the expectation that some day he would be in exactly the place he found himself today, though certainly not in the way that had been imagined for him.

 

“I know I told you a long time ago that he was funny,” Raven remarked as she looked around for a place to sit, needing to take a bit of pressure off her leg. “But I think I regret that statement. He’s not funny, he’s annoying.”

 

Clarke hummed in a non-committal reply, knowing Raven and Roan both enjoyed their verbal sparring enormously no matter how often they grumbled about it. By the time they had found somewhere to sit against the back wall, Roan and Tyko returned with plates of finger food. Clarke thanked her husband with a smile and he leaned against the wall at her back as they ate, enjoying their ability to just watch as their people enjoyed themselves.

 

Clarke watched groups of teenagers, some of who she knew from class, clumped together, heedless off clan affiliation to enjoy the music and the atmosphere. They laughed and teased as they flirted and socialized and she smiled. They were about fifteen or sixteen at most, generally segregating into groups of boys and girls, still trying to learn the intricacies of gender and social dynamics while harbouring crushes and dislikes for their peers. It was interesting and a little bittersweet for her to watch from the outside. She had never really had that time in her own life, too wrapped up in being her mother’s perfect daughter and then imprisoned for her father’s would-be crimes. She never had the freedom to stand with a group of girls and giggle free of worry and social expectation. Clarke just wasn’t sure if it was something she actually missed out on or something she had been lucky to avoid.

 

“What is making you frown so deeply, niron?” Roan asked, leaning forward so she could see him in her periphery. Clarke glanced over to find Raven engaged in a conversation with Tyko and James who had come up to them as Clarke was lost in thought.

 

“Nothing really,” Clarke sighed, placing her nearly empty plate on the table beside her and turning to face Roan. “I just – I never had what these kids have. Even before what happened with my dad, I was so wrapped up in being perfect like my mother expected me to be. It’s just a little strange to see, I think. For them to be so free.”

 

“Freedom is what you make of it,” Roan replied and pulled her up from her seat to face him. He wrapped his arms around her and focused his attention solely on her, eyes serious as they met Clarke’s.

 

“Would you have wanted the freedom you think they have?” he asked after a moment, glancing over at the teenagers.

 

“I don’t know,” Clarke admitted with a small sigh. “You can’t regret what you didn’t have and my life has been complicated since the beginning. I doubt even if none of what happened with dad had happened that I would ever have been like that.”

 

“No, I doubt you would have,” he agreed with a small shake of his head, reaching up to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. “I was never like them either.”

 

“Do you think that’s shocking information on any level?” Clarke teased gently, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m not sure I could ever picture you as a carefree teenager. I think you were born as serious as you are now.”

 

Roan just laughed down at her like he was withholding a secret, but didn’t argue with her. Clarke narrowed her eyes as she tried to read his expression, more curious now about what he was like when he was younger. When his eyes glanced over to Tyko, Clarke’s eyes lit up. Roan caught the change and shook his head at her.

 

“No,” he said, pulling her back against his chest, his hands gripping her hips tight.

 

“Are you trying to hide something?” Clarke asked, grinning widely up at him, eyes sparkling. “Something embarrassing?”

 

“No,” he replied, smiling enigmatically. “It’s nothing interesting I assure you.”

 

“Everything about you is interesting, Roan,” Clarke argued with a shake of her head and he laughed.

 

“Everything?” he asked, voice dropping lower and she couldn’t help the drop in her smile when his eyes flashed with promise.

 

“Everything you seem to want to keep hidden,” she parried after glancing down at his lips. “Especially if it’s embarrassing.”

 

“It’s not embarrassing,” he said, sensing his ploy to distract her wasn’t working.

 

“Like you’d say anything different,” she argued and glanced behind her to find Tyko. He had already moved off with Raven and James and Clarke wrinkled her nose in distaste realizing Roan had distracted her long enough to divert her attention to his secret keeper leaving.

 

“Just because I can’t ask him now, doesn’t mean I can’t later,” she said after she turned back to find him smiling smugly at her. He didn’t say anything else, but leaned down to kiss her instead and that was disconcerting enough amongst so many people around them that Clarke was distracted from her plans until he pulled away.

 

“That’s not fair,” she said as he straightened above her. He hummed in reply but whether it was in negation or confirmation was unclear. She glanced over to her left to find one of the older women from Trishana Kru standing beside them smiling indulgently at the couple and Clarke blushed making Roan chuckle.

 

“Come on, my queen,” he said, returning the woman’s smile. “Let’s attend to our duties for a while before I steal you away for a more private celebration.”

 

“You are horrible,” Clarke muttered, knowing he had spoken loud enough for the older women to hear as they chuckled when they couple walked off.

 

“But you love me,” he whispered quietly as he dropped a kiss on her cheek before leading her through the crowd to the where a few ambassadors stood looking at him in anticipation.

 

“Lucky for you I do,” Clarke agreed, slipping her hand into the crook of his offered elbow and following his lead. She would ferret out the information she sought from Tyko later, once everyone had indulged in a bit of mead and relaxation and she could get away from Roan’s indulgent attention for a little while.

 

*~*~*

 

A few hours later Clarke was talking to a couple of the medics in training by the refreshment table. The atmosphere had taken on a more intimate edge, with the music playing becoming closer to something you could dance to, alternating between upbeat songs and transitioning to slower numbers when couples would take to the floor and sway together. Clarke especially loved watching people then, when some new connections were made and two bashful dancers would move in halting, and slightly awkward steps, glancing shyly at each other. They were contrasted with the older, established couples that were just enjoying the excuse for closeness and a break from the normal daily life.

 

Dancing was something that grounders and skaikru alike shared a history with. There had been plenty of awkward dances for school-aged children on the Ark where they had learned classical dances but were also moved freely in the more upbeat numbers. It seemed grounders had taken to a similar culture, keeping music alive with instruments rather than recordings, but it didn’t take long for everyone to enjoy what the bunker had to offer in their expansive files.

 

“Enjoying yourself, azplana?” Sagua asked, coming up beside her as she watched a group of young boys and girls do their best to out-dance each other much to everyone else’s amusement.

 

“Yes, I am,” Clarke said with a nod over at the warrior. “And you? Are you enjoying the evening?”

 

“Of course,” the older man said with a pointed laugh at the young boys who performed an impressive semi-choreographed routine that bordered on silly.

 

Clarke laughed along with everyone else and felt a warm hand settle on her lower back as Roan came up alongside her. She smiled up at him and took a moment to appreciate him all dressed up for the festivities. He wore his Azgeda leathers, his jacket light but trimmed with a bit of dark fur and covered in intricate chains and buckles. It was one of the more ornate jackets he owned and made his shoulders broader than normal. He also wore slim fitted leather trousers, tall combat boots, and his sword strapped on a wide belt slung low over his hips. During the speech he had worn a light mantle clasped with a series of metal chains, but he had discarded that sometime during the evening as the heat of so many bodies in a small space made the temperature in the room rise.

 

Clarke had opted for the leather leggings she had worn at her wedding ceremony, layering a long blue dress under a leather bustier, leaving her with a bit more freedom and ventilation. Her arms were bare and her own sword was strapped to her waist on a wide leather belt that emphasized the soft flare of her hips. She had left her hair loose, only securing a few sections back with intricate braids and she had kept the usually dark Azgeda makeup lighter than usual, but still enough to mark her as queen.

 

“They are certainly enjoying the attention,” Roan said as he turned to watch the boys’ display. The hand at the base of her spine slid slowly around to her hip, pulling her closer to his side.

 

“Well, wouldn’t you?” Clarke teased lightly and he raised an eyebrow at her. She had cornered Tyko earlier that evening and done her best to persuade him to regale her with stories of teenaged Roan, but he was loyal as ever and refused to tell her anything overly interesting. That didn’t mean Roan knew how little she had been told.

 

“You can’t fool me, Wanheda,” he chastised instead and Clarke’s eyes glittered up at him in delight. “Tyko wouldn’t have given in to you. Even if Raven helped you.”

 

“You have no way of knowing that,” she argued, turning to scan the crowd for her friends but coming up short.

 

“And you think Raven would tell me about you?” Roan challenged instead and Clarke shook her head.

 

“Raven didn’t know me on the Ark. It’s only since we came down here that we’ve become close,” Clarke argued, joining in the round of applause that rang out as the boys bowed at the conclusion of their impromptu performance.

 

“What information are you seeking, azplana?” Sagua asked, eyeing Roan from her other side and Clarke smiled up at the warrior. He was older than Roan and seemed less affected by the king than most, though his relationship with Aeir had been a lot more turbulent.

 

“My husband refuses to tell me anything about what he was like at their age,” Clarke said as she pointed at the boys who filed off the dance floor with whoops and cheers, preening like peacocks.

 

“Ah, well considering Tyko was often deeply entrenched in whatever plan he concocted I doubt he’ll ever tell you,” the older warrior said with a laugh, and Roan’s hand tightened around Clarke’s hips.

 

“I’d be very careful about what you tell her next, Sagua,” the king warned, but there was warmth running through the deep voice.

 

“If I were you, azplana,” Sagua said as he shot a glance over at Roan, no trace of fear in his eyes. “I’d ask Aeir about it. She’ll be more than willing to tell you anything you wish to know.”

 

“Thank you,” Clarke said with a triumphant grin as Roan grumbled beside her. She was already scheduled to speak to his sister a few days from now to discuss the healer apprenticeship program so as long as they dealt with all the pertinent details of that she could get a bit of dirt on Roan.

 

“Anytime, azplana,” Sagua said warmly and made his escape before Roan had a chance to say anything. Clarke grinned up at Roan happily and he shook his head, trying his best to keep his own smile at bay.

 

“It is not going to be nearly as interesting as you think it is,” he said, pulling her out on to the dance floor as the music mellowed into a slower tempo before she even had a chance to process what he was doing.

 

His smirk grew at her confusion and he pulled her hands up to rest on his shoulders before wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her close and swaying slowly with the beat of the music. Clarke shook her head trying to catch up, never having assumed Roan would ever dance with her. They never had at any other event though the opportunity had been there as it always was.

 

“You dance?” Clarke asked dumbly and that finally teased the laugh from him.

 

“I’ll dance with you,” he amended. “It seemed something you may enjoy.”

 

Clarke smiled and looked away from his penetrating look a little shyly. It was an incredibly sweet gesture and she didn’t doubt it wasn’t something he would normally do. Her hypothesis was confirmed by the many looks shot their way when she glanced over his shoulder, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel embarrassed by the attention. Instead she tucked her head onto his shoulder, tangling her fingers in the loose ends of his hair and breathing him in. The leather jacked still had the fresh sting of pine and cold air, a scent that never seemed to leave it, no matter how long it spent in the chest in their room.

 

“If you wish to I think we can leave shortly,” Roan rumbled after a few minutes of silence where Clarke was enjoying the moment.

 

“Is this you trying to get out of dancing or are you trying to distract me from my mission to find out embarrassing things about you?” Clarke asked, lifting her head from his shoulder.

 

“Neither,” he answered as he shook his head. “I’m trying to get you in bed.”

 

“Well by all means,” Clarke laughed, pulling away from him. “Lead the way.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had planned on posting this a few days ago, but we have had problems with our internet and when they sent people out to "repair" it, it ended up with the technician pulling out some crucial wiring and then we had to get someone in to rewire our whole house. So yeah, fun times. And by fun I mean painfully annoying and time consuming with hour long phone calls with our internet provider who was trying to blame us. So yeah, that was my week :) Hope yours was better!
> 
> Thank you for all your kind words for the last chapter. I will reply to your reviews after I get this chapter up. And I forewarn you, it's almost cavity inducingly fluffy and sweet. I'm almost ashamed of myself. Almost. But enjoy! I have been putting in more time on a couple of WIPs which haven't left me alone, but hopefully I'll have this one wrapped up in a couple of weeks. Not sure that's good or bad news.
> 
> And I have to give a special thank you to Lolita who made an absolutely gorgeous edit on her Instagram account (@cloankru) inspired by the wedding vows in this fiction. I am flattered beyond words, so if you have a second go check it out. It's amazingly beautiful!

“What?” Clarke asked, her mouth hanging open. “That’s not even remotely possible.”

 

She stared at Doctor Michaels, the tablet gripped tightly in her hands as she read the results of her recent blood work. She hadn’t expected anything to come from her annual check up and she was having a hard time processing the results over the panicked buzzing in her ears.

 

“Well I can assure you it’s possible. Didn’t you read the notice you posted on the community board?” Doctor Michaels asked, frowning. “I was sure I even talked to you about it before I asked you to post it.”

 

“Yeah, but-“ she trailed off unable to argue with him. She had posted the notice but she just hadn’t actually thought it affected her.

 

“I need to go grab the equipment from the other room,” he said softly, stepping away from the blonde, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Do you want me to call someone?”

 

“Roan is down in farm station, can you send someone to get him?” she said, shuddering as she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt sick, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to stamp down the panic rapidly rising in her chest.

 

“Of course,” the doctor said as he walked into the adjoining clinic. “Lie down and rest a moment, Clarke. It won’t take long.”

 

Clarke nodded dumbly, shifting her legs up onto the bed and laying back. She focused on slowing her breathing and her racing heart but she felt the blood pumping steadily through her veins. She thought about the small piece of white paper she herself had posted on the notice board outside the canteen, the black letters blurring and fading in her memory.

 

She drew in a deep breath and the air was heavy with disinfectant and metallic instruments and her stomach heaved in revolt. She dashed over to the sink across the room, violently emptying the contents of her stomach. She shuddered as sweat poured down her brow, prickling uncomfortably in her scalp as she gripped the sides of the sink hard. Her stomach heaved again. She remained hunched over the sink and ran the water to rid it of the little she had emptied from her stomach before scrubbing her hands clean. She scooped a handful of water into her palm and swished it around her mouth, then splashed the cool liquid over her face, letting her head hang over the sink.

 

“Clarke?” Roan’s voice sounded alarmed as the door opened. He was beside her in seconds, worried hands turning her to face him. “Are you alright?”

 

She looked up at him and the tears welling in her eyes spilled over as she buried her head into his chest. She shook with the aftereffects of vomiting and the shock of the news. He rested his chin on top of her head, letting her have a moment.

 

“Clarke,” his voice rumbled under her ear and he made no attempt at hiding his worry for her. “I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

 

She shut her eyes tightly, breathing in deeply. He smelled like warm sunshine and earth, a comforting smell she knew so well. Clarke allowed it to wash over her and calm her panic.

 

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, and his arms tightened around her.

 

“I thought you said that wasn’t a possibility,” he said after a moment, his voice a little hesitant.

 

“It wasn’t,” she said, and then sighed. “If I had made an appointment to check my implant still worked and I completely forgot. I’ve been here checking and replacing them for others. I posted the notice on the board. I just- I just didn’t even think about me.”

 

He didn’t say anything, but stroked his palms down her back in soothing circles. She relaxed against him, the nausea lessening as her heart rate slowed back to normal.

 

“And you’re unhappy about this?” he asked finally, a note of resignation in his tone. She looked up and found him watching her, eyes guarded for the first time in months.

 

She thought about it, not wanting to lie at a moment like this and found that she wasn’t unhappy. But the shock and disbelief had overridden any other feelings she had on the matter. Clarke pictured herself as a mother with difficulty; it hadn’t been something she had considered until now. She knew it would happen eventually, but hadn’t given it more than a passing thought. There had always been something more urgent to think about or deal with and she was still young.

 

She tried to picture what a child of theirs would look like. Would she have his father’s sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes? Or would he take after Clarke, with dark blue eyes and tight blond curls?

 

“No,” she said finally, shaking her head. “I’m not unhappy, I’m just shocked. Are you unhappy about this?”

 

The smile that broke across his features was like the sun breaking through after rain and the kiss he gave her assured her where he stood on the matter. Clarke could feel an anticipation growing in her she had never known before and she was thrilled at the prospect of giving him something to be this happy about, accidentally or not.

 

“Are you ready to meet your little one?” Doctor Michaels interrupted, wheeling in the ultrasound machine he had grabbed from the infirmary. Clarke felt nervous butterflies start fluttering in her belly, as she pulled away from Roan’s embrace and approached the examination table.

 

“Hop up here,” the doctor indicated and Clarke sat on the table, laying back and unbuttoning her pants in preparation. “We may need to do an internal, depending on when your LMC was, it may be a bit hard to see. Do you have any idea?”

 

“No, I’ve never been very regular,” Clarke answered after a moment, trying to remember the last time she had her period. Doctor Michaels nodded and lifted her shirt up to expose her belly as he tucked a towel into her waistband. He grabbed a bit of ultrasound gel and squirted it onto her belly. It was cold and gooseflesh erupted in its wake. She looked over at Roan who was watching everything with a frown.

 

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got,” the soft whirr of the ultrasound machine was the only noise in the room as he pressed gently over Clarke’s lower abdomen. The grainy image resolved itself and she saw the grey edges of her uterus. He scanned the area and all of a sudden there was a tiny little humanoid blob, moving around on the screen. Clarke gasped and reached blindly out for Roan’s hand to clutch it tight.

 

“Wow,” she said quietly. She had never imagined what this moment might feel like, but here it was and she was hardly keeping up.

 

“So, I’d say you’re at least ten weeks along already,” Doctor Michaels murmured, pressing a series of buttons to come up with a measurement. “I can’t tell much more about it now, we’ll have to do another scan at twelve weeks to get the most accurate EDD, but you should be able hear the heartbeat, just give me a second.”

 

A few clicks and suddenly there was a strong rhythmic whooshing sound in the room and Clarke felt Roan’s fingers tighten around her own. She looked up at him to find him squinting at the screen, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. It was already clearly a baby shape, but slightly globular. There were definitely four little limbs kicking around, evidently upset at the intrusion. The sound was distinctively a baby’s heartbeat, Clarke had heard it several times on the Ark but hadn’t understood how much it affected a mother until that moment. There was a tiny little person growing inside of her.

 

“168 bpm, a good strong heart rate,” the doctor said, taking a few measurements as he went along before settling the image at a profile of the tiny fetus. “It looks like everything is as it should be. We will double check growth rate in a couple of weeks. Everything looks great, Clarke. Congratulations.”

 

Two hands framed her face and Roan kissed her firmly, fingers tightening around her jaw. She felt his thumbs rub down the small stars that decorated the tops of her cheekbones and she grinned into the kiss. He looked a little bashful when he pulled back, eyes flicking briefly over to where the doctor was doing his best to look busy inspecting the images on the screen, but she saw Doctor Michaels’ lips purse in an attempt to stave off a smile. The machine whirred a moment later and he pulled out a small square piece of paper.

 

“Normally I wouldn’t print this, but seeing as this is the first pregnancy we’ve had down here,” he passed the picture over to Roan who took it gently, looking down at the little blob that made up their combined genetic material. “I’m going to order a special diet for you, Clarke. Increase your greens and lentils so we can increase your foliate intake and you’ll need to add more protein to your diet. You’ll get extra credit from the kitchens and I expect you to take a bit more time off than you have been of late.”

 

“Are there any concerns?” Roan asked with a frown.

 

“Not as such,” he answered with a shake of his head. “But Clarke is a nightblood and we don’t know how that will potentially affect this pregnancy. I have no experience with it at all but I will consult with the Delfikru healer who delivered Luna, we have discussed this before as a possibility.”

 

“I’m not sure how I should react to that,” Clarke said, but she was smiling too widely to make it sound as annoyed as she wished it would.

 

“It is due diligence,” Doctor Michaels said with a shrug, looking around him before bringing a tray of instruments closer. “It was an obvious possibility from the beginning so I wanted to be prepared for when it happened. I will organize a special vitamin solution for you by this afternoon. I am also a little concerned about radiation exposure. It’s been over three years, so I don’t think that it will be a major issue. But we will keep a close eye on you and if you feel unwell, please rest. I’d rather be a little cautious than to put you in any danger.”

 

“I’m pregnant, not incapacitated,” Clarke groused.

 

“That’s true,” Doctor Michaels agreed with a grin. “But you may as well take the opportunity to rest. You’re feeling all right at the moment, but that could change, and as your term advances, you’ll start feeling more and more tired. Not to mention, once your little bundle is here, there will be a lot less opportunity for you to do so.”

 

Clarke was annoyed at already being pushed around and she glanced up at Roan hoping to find support. When she saw the small smirk at the corner of his lips she realized that all her fussing over his injuries in the past was about to come back and bite her very firmly in the ass. She sighed and leaned back, using the towel Doctor Michaels handed her to wipe off the excess gel.

 

“I would advise you wait until your next scan before you make any announcements,” Doctor Michaels said cautiously glancing between the pair. “I would feel more comfortable if we can run a full panel of blood work and ensure that the baby is growing as expected. Of course, if you’re comfortable either way, I certainly won’t stop you from making your condition known.”

 

“I want to tell my mother,” Clarke said, wishing that she could sit down and do so in person. She sat up and looking for confirmation from Roan who nodded.

 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Doctor Michaels smiled and pointed at the inside of her arm. “I’m just going to take your implant out now. I’m guessing that it’s not working, but in case it is doing so intermittently I need to take it out immediately.”

 

Clarke nodded and tucked her hand behind her head as the doctor filled a syringe with a little local anesthetic, injecting it quickly and rubbing the spot. Clarke was very familiar with the steps of the procedure, having done it herself for the other girls underground. Doctor Michaels pinched her skin and after locating the thin tube, he made a small incision and exctracted the contraption. He dabbed a bit of antiseptic gel on the cut and covered it with a small square plaster.

 

“It is only a couple of weeks until the traditional reveal time,” the doctor smiled as he sat back, pulling off his gloves. “You may want to take that time to enjoy your news in private. Take the rest of the afternoon off, the clinic isn’t busy and this is reason to enough for you to celebrate. Congratulations.”

 

Clarke smiled as she hopped off the table, nodding gratefully at her mentor and friend. She wouldn’t argue when she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else for the foreseeable future. Roan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her from the clinic after shaking the doctor’s hand. His steady presence was balm to her frazzled nerves and she leaned close to him, drawing as much comfort from him as she could.

 

They made their way back to their rooms in silence, Clarke lost in her own thoughts and insecurities about what was to come. There was still a risk that something could go wrong, she was aware of the statistics and knowing that her biology had changed would certainly affect things as well. But she felt a strong pull of hope take root in her chest. It was completely unexpected. Her world had changed drastically in just a couple of hours, but it felt right in the end.

 

*~*~*

 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Roan grabbed her and kissed her deeply, pulling her firmly against himself. He didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath as he plundered her mouth while his fingers dug firmly into her hips. Clarke couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her throat at his behaviour and he finally pulled back to let her breathe.

 

“If you wanted this so much, why haven’t you ever told me?” she asked, sobering a little as she looked up at him.

 

“I didn’t want to push you,” he replied honestly, his light eyes flickering with emotion. “And we’re not encouraging pregnancy while we are underground. We may be inadvertently giving everyone permission to be less careful.”

 

“We know the bunker can support more people,” she replied impressed at his attempt to divert her attention elsewhere. “Having a conversation about the potential wouldn’t have been pushing me, Roan.”

 

He sighed and took a step back from her before taking her hand and leading her toward their bed. He made her sit, kneeling down to help her off with her boots and kicked off his own as she crawled back to lay down on the pillows before he joined her. Once he had shifted into a better position he held an arm out to her and she happily crawled closer tucking herself up against his side.

 

“Am I going to have to torture you for information?” she joked after he hadn’t made any move to answer her question.

 

“That would depend on how you planned on torturing me,” he answered a little too casually. “There are certainly forms that I wouldn’t object to.”

 

Clarke hummed in reply, a habit she had picked up from the man in question, running her hand down his chest and sneaking it up under his shirt to rest on his belly. She had learned to let Roan have time to process his thoughts before he spoke. As much of a shock as it had been for Clarke, it would have been one for him as well, especially if he had been thinking about it and planning a conversation about it in their future.

 

“I have always let you lead between us,” he said after a moment seeking out the hand she had weaseled in under his shirt much to her disappointment. “I have never wanted to ask for something that you haven’t been ready to give. I don’t want to influence you, or allow your feelings for me to lead you to make one you will regret.”

 

“You can’t possibly think very highly of me if you think I’m swayed so easily,” Clarke frowned as she turned and tucked her leg between his.

 

“I know what you’re willing to sacrifice for the people you love,” he said softly.

 

“That’s different, and you know that,” she admonished, glancing up at him to find him frowning at the ceiling. She propped herself up on one elbow to watch him more easily. She would have been a lot more affected by his explanation than she currently was if she hadn’t learned through several heated arguments that it all stemmed from his own insecurity. They had been working on talking through these sorts of situations and Clarke knew this particular one called for a bit of honesty on her part as well.

 

“I have always known I would have a child,” she said running her fingers down the scars framing his eye, encouraging him to meet her gaze. “Growing up on the Ark I assumed I would have the one that was required of me and no more. There would be genetic testing and it may not even have been with the person I married. I couldn’t really see myself as a mother or anything beyond what I had been taught to know. I didn’t think about siblings and families of my own choosing. But now I hope that we will have more than one, if we’re lucky enough to.”

 

Clarke watched him as her words sunk in, the insecurity fading into disbelief, as she kept running her fingertips over his temple. Sometimes he was just such a man about things it made her shake her head.

 

“If you had just asked me about it,” she said with a smile, echoing his words from years ago. A time she found difficult to even reconcile with her current one. One fraught with danger and risk and not filled with love and laughter the way her life was today.

 

“I’ll try and remember that in the future,” he murmured and hooked his fingers around her jaw and pulled her down for a kiss. He took his time exploring her mouth and by the time he pressed her back into the mattress she was writhing beneath him, begging for his touch with her body, her nerves singing out for attention.

 

He was gentle as he undressed her, more than usual, but his hands were firm and possessive. His attention was worshipful and reverent and he treated each new patch of skin to thorough attention steeped in knowledge of just what drove her crazy. It warmed her, knowing he was as familiar with her body as she was with his. As he kissed his way up from her feet he stopped and placed a soft kiss reverently under her belly button and she dug her fingers into his hair as he paused, breath hot against her skin before he sucked a deep red mark onto the spot.

 

Clarke tugged on his hair, making him look up at her, eyes dark as he took his time to admire her spread out against the pillows. She hooked a toe into his belt loop and pushed, smiling at him as she bit her lip. He sat back on his heels and pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his chest pulling under his skin and Clarke couldn’t help but admire him. The large scar that ran diagonally across his abdomen had started to fade into a pale pink, becoming a little less pronounced, but it still stood out plainly against his skin. He had lost a bit of his usual golden hue after so long underground, as they all had, but he still trained hard, as evidenced by the pronounced ridges of his abdominals.

 

His hands moved down to unfasten the buttons at his fly and she raised her eyes back to meet his icy blue gaze. He was smiling softly at her, basking in her open admiration, but not turning the intimacy of the moment into anything more playful or heated. He stripped out of his trousers and Clarke reached her arms up for him and Roan lowered himself over her, his hips slotting between her legs perfectly, cock nudging at her entrance. Clarke wrapped her legs around his hips and sighed as he slid into her.

 

He filled her completely, palming her breasts as he thrust deep inside her, resting his forehead against her own. As he increased the speed of his movements he kissed her sweetly before leaning back, eyes open and locked on hers. She held his gaze as she shattered around him, not daring to look away. He returned the favour as he came shortly after with a long groan.

 

“I love you,” Roan whispered against her lips, rubbing his cheek against hers before placing warm, wet kisses down the column of her throat. Clarke dug her fingers into his hair, encouraging him to bring his face back to hers. He’d never offered her the words first and Clarke let him have the time he needed, kissing him deeply before letting him go.

 

“I love you, Roan,” she whispered, running her hands down his back, the scars under her fingers as familiar in sensation as they were in sight.

 

He smiled down at her and pulled out of her before shifting to move off her. After he rolled to the side, he held her close and Clarke snuggled down into his embrace as he pulled the blanket over them. She let her head rest against his chest, hearing the solid thrum of his heart under her ear and wondered at the journey they were about to embark on.

 

“What do you have to do this afternoon?” Clarke asked after a long moment of silent contemplation. She hoped there wasn’t anything he couldn’t reschedule, wanting to be with him and his quiet calm countenance that always encouraged the same in her. If she was left to spend too much time on her own today she knew she would work herself up into a worry.

 

“Nothing I can’t adjust or reschedule,” he reassured her, tucking a curl behind her ear. “I don’t want to leave you here to worry on your own. We can go see about speaking to your mother and I will speak to Tyko then.”

 

“Are you sure?” Clarke asked, feeling a little childish and coddled. He cupped her cheek, bringing her eyes up to meet his own.

 

“I’m not sure I’d be entirely engaged in whatever I was supposed to be paying attention to either,” he said with a soft smile. “I’d rather be wholly present, rather than busy thinking about you.”

 

“So you’re not always thinking about me?” Clarke teased, relieved he was going to spend the time with her.

 

“Not to the point of distraction,” he argued with a small smirk and Clarke laughed. She tucked her head back into the crook of his neck, happy to breathe him in and be soothed by his warm skin for a little while longer. As much as she wished they could call her mother and come back to hide away for the afternoon, she knew it wouldn’t turn out that way. But as long as they were together she was happy.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke glanced nervously at her mother as Abby frowned in concern.

 

“Clarke? What’s wrong?” Abby enquired softly, and Clarke felt warm fingers close around her own below the table, out of the view of the camera.

 

“I’m pregnant,” Clarke said in a rush of air, bravely staring into the monitor, her heart beating hard in her chest.

 

“Oh, Clarke,” Abby’s hands covered her mouth as she looked over at Kane whose face had split into a wide grin. When Abby turned back to the camera her eyes were obviously watery and she lowered her hands to reveal a happy smile. The breath left Clarke’s body in a rush and her shoulders sagged in relief. She hadn’t realized how desperately she wanted her mother to be happy about the news.

 

“How far along are you?” Abby asked, voice husky as she gripped Kane’s hand.

 

“A little over ten weeks,” Clarke said, tears welling in her own eyes. “Doctor Michaels wants to run some tests and do another scan in a couple of weeks just to make sure everything is as it should be. But he said everything looked good so far.”

 

“I’m going to be a grandmother,” Abby whispered in awe and Clarke smiled as Kane slung an arm around her shoulders.

 

“Congratulations,” Marcus said, staring straight into the camera. “You are going to make wonderful parents and this will certainly be worth celebrating once you the little one makes their arrival.”

 

“Thank you,” Roan said sincerely, squeezing Clarke’s fingers.

 

“I didn’t realize you were even talking about this,” Abby said with an amazed shake of her head and Clarke’s stomach sank, not wanting to disappoint her mother.

 

“It wasn’t entirely planned,” Clarke admitted softly. “But it was a good surprise.”

 

“A very good surprise,” her husband amended, looking over at her, love shining plainly in his pale eyes.

 

“I only wish I could be there to help,” Abby continued, apparently not phased by the unplanned pregnancy which spoke volumes about how far she had come in her acceptance of the relationship. Clarke didn’t doubt that Marcus had been the primary person behind her change of heart as he had become closer with Roan over the years and Abby had watched Clarke’s happiness grow steadily over time.

 

“We have help here,” Clarke tried to assure her. “The Delfikru healer was the one who delivered Luna. Doctor Michaels will be consulting with her to see if there are any special considerations and concerns. He is going to run every test he knows so I’m sure that everything will be just fine.”

 

“I know,” Abby agreed, wiping discreetly at her cheek. “But I just wish I could be there as your mother.”

 

Clarke’s shaky grip on her emotions broke at her mother’s words and she felt hot tears track down her cheeks. Roan shifted closer, pulling her up against his side, running a strong hand down her spine in comfort. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and extracted a small square, holding it up to the camera. Their side of the split screen filled with the tiny black and white blob that was their happy accident. Abby surged forward, inspecting the screen closely, cheeks wet with tears.

 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I assume you’re waiting until you get the results back from your blood work and the next scan before making any official announcements?”

 

“At least,” Clarke agreed. “I promise we’ll tell you when we decide to announce it.”

 

“As long as you’re feeling well, take time to enjoy it on your own,” Abby advised before she frowned in concern. “You are feeling well?”

 

“Yeah, I’m doing great,” Clarke nodded. “I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been in for my yearly blood work.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Abby said. “I was horribly sick with you. Couldn’t get out of bed for weeks, but I’m glad you didn’t inherit that particular gene.”

 

“Sounds awful,” Clarke agreed, relieved she had been unaware. She didn’t know what was left to say, they had requested the meeting quite out of the blue and knew that it was unusual enough to warrant a little curiosity from anyone who wanted to look into it.

 

“Thank you for telling us,” Marcus said, noting the change in Clarke and knowing the ins and outs of human curiosity well enough. “We’d better not arise any more suspicions by taking up any more of your time.”

 

“Their curiosity will be satisfied soon enough,” Roan said but nodded his head, shifting back in his seat, hand still rubbing absently on Clarke’s back. “Though the timing will be up to Clarke. She’s bound to have the lion’s share of attention.”

 

Abby’s eyes sharpened at the comment and a small smile twisted her lips in approval. It seemed the king had made another good move in his mother-in-law’s book. Clarke leaned into him appreciative of his gesture, knowing without asking him that he would happily announce their news immediately.

 

“I think we will take some time to enjoy the news ourselves first,” Clarke said after a moment. “I may be forced to tell Raven since she seems to have an uncanny ability to know when someone is keeping something from her, but other than that, I think we’ll take a few weeks.”

 

“As you should, Clarke,” Marcus agreed. “Your father would have been so excited.”

 

Clarke nodded at the camera, wishing she could see her father’s reaction, but the love in Marcus’ dark eyes reminded her enough of what paternal affection looked like. She missed her father dearly, but Marcus was a good compliment to her mother and loved her deeply. Clarke knew that his affection for herself was also genuine and he was probably more excited than he allowed himself to let on.

 

“Congratulations again,” Abby said with a smile. “Now go rest up and enjoy a day off. I expect weekly updates and I’m here for you anytime you have any questions.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” Clarke smiled. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Clarke,” Abby returned warmly. “You are going to make an incredible mother.”

 

*~*~*

 

“I have just had the worst week,” Raven sighed as she slid down beside Clarke on the bench at lunch the following afternoon. “We thought we finally had a video-link solution for the stupid drones that Monty and Jasper are working on, but they don’t want to communicate with our systems. I have no idea what to do about it and I can’t be there to hold their hands through the process. If they could figure out how to make moonshine at thirteen, you’d think they could make a camera talk to an outdated computer.”

 

“Sounds fun,” Clarke said with a smile, trying to stop the nervous churning of her belly at the thought of telling her best friend.

 

“Yeah,” Raven sighed. “And then James went through and made changes to the IM system and erased half the user profiles which is going to be oh so much fun to rectify. I’ve put him on grunt-work duty on that one. He can be the one to manually re-enter over two thousand people’s information.”

 

“That sounds even more fun,” Clarke agreed and Raven frowned at her.

 

“What’s up with you?” the brunette tilted her head in contemplation. “Something’s up.”

 

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Clarke said and looked around, but there were too many people who could potentially overhear. “Come back to our place? I’ve got food and drinks for us already.”

 

Clarke stood and picked up a bag without waiting for an answer. She knew if Raven had a chance to ask her more questions she would break down and tell her, so she did her best to avoid her penetrating look.

 

“This isn’t life-changing news is it?” Raven asked, grabbing her arm tight as they walked down the hallway. “Like you’re not going to tell me that your body has had a massively bad reaction to the nightblood and you’re dying are you?”

 

“No, nothing like that, Rae,” Clarke looked over at her friend and felt a little guilty at worrying her. “But it is something I don’t want anyone to overhear just yet.”

 

“Just yet? Are you-“ Raven abruptly cut off, eyeing Clarke critically but stayed silent until they were behind closed doors. The mechanic crossed her arms over her chest, watching Clarke as she dropped the bag of food on the table. Clarke cast her eyes around the suite searching for the right words.

 

“Clarke?” Raven said after she grew tired of waiting for the blonde to start. “You are okay aren’t you?”

 

“I’m fine,” Clarke sighed, turning to face her friend. “I’m pregnant.”

 

“You’re-“ Raven began but cut herself off and Clarke worried her lower lip with her teeth. She waited in nervous anticipation as Raven processed the news and was about to speak when a big grin grew over her face.

 

“Oh, Clarke,” Raven finally sighed. “That’s awesome. It is awesome right? You’re happy?”

 

“Yeah, I’m happy,” Clarke confirmed and Raven threw her arms around her, hugging her tight.

 

“Roan must be over the moon,” Raven said as she pulled back. “How far along are you? When are you announcing it? Cuz this is going to be some massive fodder for the gossipmongers! Not to mention the party that will go with it.”

 

“He is,” Clarke agreed, laughing at the rapid-fire questions. “About ten weeks we think. I have another scan in a couple of weeks and a whole bunch of blood work but once that’s cleared we’ll figure out when to tell everyone.”

 

“People are going to go nuts,” Raven said as she moved over to the table and unpacked the sandwiches and drinks. “There has been talk about it for ages, so you better be ready for one hell of a celebration.”

 

“People have been talking about it?” Clarke asked, biting into her sandwich, surprised that anyone cared. Raven raised one eyebrow at her in her best ‘you have got to be kidding me look’ as she poured out drinks.

 

“Sometimes I don’t know whether you’re doing this on purpose,” Raven muttered before taking a bite and watching Clarke smile serenely at her as she chewed. Before either girl could say anything else to door to the suite opened and Roan entered, casting his eyes over to where the girls sat. Raven’s grin turned absolutely wicked as she stood and approached him and before he had a chance to process what was happening she had thrown her arms around him, hugging him tight.

 

He frowned and glanced over at Clarke who laughed at his shocked expression. It was still a rare sight to see Roan touch anyone even casually outside of training, and Clarke didn’t think she’d ever seen him hug anyone other than his sister and niece. She raised her eyebrows at him as he awkwardly returned Raven’s embrace.

 

“Congratulations, your majesty,” Raven grinned widely and Roan’s face melted into a very boyish grin as he understood what prompted the reaction. “I hear you have your very own little heir to the throne baking.”

 

“Thank you,” he said, taking a step back as soon as Raven let him go which only served to amuse Clarke further. He took a couple of steps over to where Clarke sat and dropped a kiss on her cheek, shaking his head at her quiet giggles.

 

“Raven is under the impression our news will be an excuse for the party of the year,” Clarke smiled up at her husband and his eyes softened.

 

“I don’t doubt it,” he agreed, nodding at Raven when she sat back down. “I just came by to grab my sword. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“Not a problem,” Raven grinned. “Especially since it gave me the perfect opportunity to make you incredibly uncomfortable. You have got to chill out about human touch, dude.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Reyes,” he said with a pointed glare as he collected his weapon, gripping the hilt for her benefit and Raven laughed. “I’ll be finished by four, Clarke.”

 

“Alright, have fun,” Clarke smiled and he shook his head, still a little uncertain about the entire exchange. Once the door had closed behind him again, Clarke turned her eyes back to Raven whose shoulders were still shaking in amusement.

 

“Was that really necessary?” Clarke asked, amused. “He’s going to be suspicious of you for months now. Afraid you may show him some more unsolicited attention or affection.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Raven nodded as she smiled. “It was worth it. He knocked you up, just wait a few months and you’ll thank me.”

 

Clarke joined in her friend’s laughter and their conversation turned to other matters. They took the time and privacy to catch up properly, enjoying the time they had to just take it easy, as they were both busier than they should be these days. They passed an easy hour in each other’s company before Clarke had her afternoon class with the little kids and Raven decided she couldn’t avoid checking up on James’ reparations any longer. Clarke was certain she had a back up file somewhere, but would let him sweat it out until she felt he had been punished enough for playing with Raven’s precious inter-bunker messaging system.

 

*~*~*

 

Six months into her pregnancy Clarke found her seated next to Roan at dinner with Raven and Tyko. She was almost always hungry, but it was hard to eat what she had usually had as a normal sized portion, finding she had less room in her growing belly. It meant more trips to the canteen throughout the day for smaller meals, but it gave her an opportunity to get out and move around.

 

Roan had been right about her receiving the lion’s share of attention. Though people naturally congratulated the king, most flocked to Clarke, especially the older and more experienced women of the other clans. There was a constant stream of advice and jokes and she felt pulled into a community she didn’t realize existed before now. There had already been a small treasure trove of handmade gifts and clothes delivered to the couple and more seemed to arrive each day. Clarke had tried to put a stop to it, insisting that they had enough and that they wouldn’t need these things for months, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Everyone was excited at the prospect of a new life, and a royal heir at that.

 

Roan had laughed at her when he came home to her complaining about running out of space to put all the baby things, insisting that she should see it for what it was. An expression of excitement and affection for them and their whole community in Alpha, something that should be treasured, not complained about. He had added that if she needed a place to store everything all she had to do was casually mention it the next time someone gave them something and they were sure to get something more useful next time. Sure enough, one of the next presents presented to them was a large chest that now sat in the corner where a bassinette had already been tucked away ready and waiting for the new arrival.

 

“I find it amazing that they managed to accomplish as much as they did in such a short time,” Clarke tuned back in to the conversation as Tyko spoke. There had been a hack of the IM system, also known as Raven’s special pet project, and she was furious. It was assumed the perpetrators were a few specific teenagers who were rapidly becoming known for troublemaking, but Clarke was surprised they had so much tech know-how already. Though she supposed at least two of them were Skaikru and had been taught about programming from a young age.

 

“I’m fucking pissed,” Raven grumbled, stabbing her pasta quite viciously. “They haven’t done any permanent damage but it’s going to be a pain in the ass to clean up and I’ll have to design a security code to keep them out in the future.”

 

“I don’t see why you hadn’t already,” Roan apparently couldn’t resist pointing out and if looks could kill Raven would have been guilty of regicide. Roan tried and failed to hide his grin, amused at Raven being bested by a bunch of kids.

 

“I didn’t think I’d have to protect against an internal attack of animated dancing penguins popping up on everyone’s email, thankyouverymuch,” Raven returned murderously.

 

“I would have thought preparedness was key,” Roan continued to goad her and Clarke elbowed him in an attempt to side with her friend.

 

“Maybe you should deal with the mess they created,” Raven narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure you could learn enough programming to help me dig out the code even if it took you ten, maybe fifteen years.”

 

Tyko laughed and Roan smiled, apparently unperturbed by Raven’s insult. Clarke could admit that it was fun to see Raven so furious about such a ridiculous prank. It was completely harmless, with the exception of inciting the brunette’s temper, but Clarke knew her friend was secretly entertained. But she also had a secret arsenal of knowledge she could delve into in support of her friend when needed.

 

“Maybe they drew some inspiration from the recent rumours running around,” Clarke mused as she reached for her water. “I’ve been hearing so much about the time when two young boys decided it might be fun to open the sheep pens and let them out in the middle of the winter solstice festival just to see how long it would take to collect them all.”

 

“You are banned from ever speaking to my sister again,” Roan grumbled as Tyko laughed. “Or at the least of telling anyone else what you two talk about.”

 

“Where would the fun be in that, my love?” Clarke smiled sweetly up at Roan and he glowered down at her and Tyko laughed in the background.

 

She had learned quite a few details about his younger days, much to her entertainment. Most of it was harmless fun, but it had driven Nia to distraction, apparently only his Grandfather and father’s support had saved him back in those days. Both had seen his ingenuity as a budding display of battle strategy and were happy to let him run wild in his younger years.

 

Suddenly Clarke felt a sharp kick against her stomach and reached for Roan’s hand. The baby had a habit of being quiet whenever they were had some time together and he had yet to experience some of the solid hits that had come through. She placed his palm flat over the area where she had felt it and waited, hoping it wasn’t just a singular event. But shortly after there were a few more rapid-fire kicks, hard enough to make her belly shake and she watched his face soften in awe.

 

“Finally,” she said with a laugh as her husband rubbed her swollen stomach gently. “I guess it’s finished hiding from you.”

 

“It would seem,” he acknowledged and Clarke saw Raven smile in her periphery. Raven had been one of the first to feel the baby kicking, it was already more than happy to show off whenever the mechanic was around, but for some reason, it quieted down as soon as she saw Roan. She placed her hand over his and squeezed his fingers as he left his hand against her belly, enjoying the evidence of the very active baby moving inside of her.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke groaned as she collapsed onto her side on the bed. She was eight months pregnant and felt absolutely massive. Her back was aching, her feet were sore, and she had been on her them longer than anticipated at the clinic this morning setting yet another broken nose.

 

Alpha bunker’s teenage population had discovered the joy of old Earth sports and had been trying to learn each one in quick succession. This week had been baseball and apparently aiming for your opponents face scored you extra points though Clarke was well-versed enough in sport history to know that played no role in the actual activity. It was time to put it on the banned activities list along with lacrosse and ‘indoor, iceless curling’. That had been an interesting amalgamation of ideas that hadn’t worked out well for anyone, especially the four broken legs and two broken collarbones she saw within three days of one another.

 

She felt pretty miserable and tried to toe off her shoes, but gave up with an irritated huff. She couldn’t be bothered to sit up again and pry them off her swollen feet so she just pillowed her head on her arm and closed her eyes. It was official: being pregnant sucked. Everything hurt, she was tired all the time but couldn’t sleep and she had to pee every hour without fail. Raven was right all those months ago when she said Clarke would thank her for making Roan uncomfortable. There was no way he could ever feel as bad as she did.

 

The door opened and she couldn’t work up the energy to roll over.

 

“Long day, Wanheda?” Roan’s warm chuckle filled the room before she felt his hands pull of her shoes for her. She flexed her freed toes and smiled opening her eyes as she felt him sit behind her on the bed.

 

“We had to set three noses today,” she said and heard the thuds of his boots hitting the ground. “It’s time to put baseball, or whatever they’re calling baseball on the banned list. Maybe keep anything with a bat or stick away from them for a while. Encourage them to find a sport that involves sitting still, maybe inside a padded room.”

 

“I doubt you’ll have any opposition on that front,” he agreed and moved in behind her, his fingers digging into her lower back making her moan loudly. Over the last month he had learned exactly where to massage her spine to give her a little relief from the strain of carrying a very active little warrior.

 

“How has she been today?” he asked as he ran a warm hand over her swollen belly.

 

“ _He_ has been quiet,” Clarke corrected as Roan chuckled, nuzzling her cheek. “Which means I’ll be up all night and wake up with sore kidneys. Again.”

 

“She’s stubborn, just like her mother,” he said as he helped her roll over to her other side so she could face him.

 

He kissed her before she could argue with him about the sex of the child once again. Clarke had thought at the time that it would be fun not to know whether they were having a boy or a girl and Roan hadn’t expected to know so they elected to leave it as a surprise. Clarke was firmly in the ‘it’s a boy’ camp while Roan had to be obstinate and insist it was a girl. She still thought it was mainly to annoy her and he had managed to get Raven on his side. Monty and Jasper had set up a three bunker-wide betting pool, but she had no idea what was on offer to the winner and probably didn’t want to know. All she knew was that it was frighteningly specific in detail, down to the minute she went into labour, how long it took, when it was ‘officially’ born and how big the baby was.

 

“I’m pretty sure you can’t say that I’m the only stubborn one in this relationship,” Clarke argued after he released her lips and he smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re worse than me. Which is why it’s a boy.”

 

“Well know soon enough,” he said before gathering her close, moving her leg to lay it over his thigh and massaging her hip muscles. Clarke had to admit he was exceptionally good at this whole pregnancy thing and wished she had more reason to complain than she did.

 

Until recently it had been pretty easy on her, she was lucky she knew. No morning sickness to speak of and no food aversions. She hadn’t really started getting sore until the last week and that’s why she supposed she was taking it harder than she would have if she were used to the discomfort. But she would be cutting out clinic duty the next week, Doctor Michaels not wanting her exposed to anything in the last few weeks that could be avoided. But that meant that she would be left with a whole lot of time to fill and with everyone else busy with their own work, she would be floating along uselessly.

 

“Do you want to go up to the canteen for dinner or do you want me to bring you something?” Roan asked as she closed her eyes under his ministrations. She was tired and could do with a sleep and doubted she would want to leave once she woke.

 

“Can you bring me something?” she murmured, already feeling the heavy tug of sleep and she felt him smile against her forehead as he dropped a kiss between her eyes. He handed her a spare pillow, leaving it for her to put where she wanted the support and cupped her cheek. She forced her eyes to open again, though it felt like a herculean task.

 

“Anything in particular?” he asked, stroking her cheekbone softly. Clarke shook her head and smiled, pursing her lips at him and he obliged her with a kiss. He pulled away and sat, putting his boots on once more and covering her with a light blanket.

 

“I’ll be back soon,” he said as he stood. “I promised Siku I would speak to him before I retired for the night, so it will probably be about an hour. But I doubt you’ll notice.”

 

Clarke hummed as she closed her eyes, his laugh fading with his steps as he walked to the door. She cuddled down into the bed and tucked the spare pillow under her belly before pulling the blanket tight over her shoulders. She was asleep before she had enough time to notice the hard kicks start up against her ribs once again.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys as always for your amazing love and kind words!
> 
> I swear I agonized over this kid's name more than I would a child of my own... and I'm relatively happy with the result after changing it several times :) It's Irish in origin and seeing as both Clarke and Roan technically have unisex names so does their first born. 
> 
> Right, so after this, only the last chapter and an epilogue to go. Not sure when I'll get the next chapter up. I've been putting off writing it because apparently I'm not quite ready to let go of this story quite yet and have been distracting myself with other things. But I will get there, I promise.

 

Clarke had started feeling a little off that morning, the cramping in her lower back had increased steadily, but she paid it little mind. She was getting tired of lugging her increasingly swollen body around and knew by now that it came with its share of aches and pains. She’d been experiencing Braxton hicks contractions for the past month so she was quite used to the gentle tightening in her belly. It wasn’t until she felt a particularly strong surge of pain that left her gasping for air as she went over the latest radiation reports with Raven that she paid it any mind.

 

“Clarke?” her friend asked, eyes drawn into a frown. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, just a bit uncomfortable,” Clarke replied, letting out a long breath as the pain lessened. “I’ve been moving around so much the last couple of days, my back is killing me.”

 

“You are about to pop,” Raven said unconvinced. “You sure you’re not readying for D-Day?”

 

“Contractions are a normal-“ Clarke started but cut herself off at another sharp pull in her stomach. Maybe Raven was on to something. But she would have a few hours still even if it wasn’t false labour.

 

“Yeah, time to boogey, mama,” Raven said, closing up her tablet and getting to her feet. “I have strict instructions to let a certain anxious father-to-be know exactly when things start heading this direction. He’s successfully threatened anyone with a fate worse than death if you’re kept from the clinic once things start moving closer to the finish line. Doctor Michaels wants to keep an eye on you.”

 

“I’ll be fine, Rae,” Clarke argued, getting awkwardly to her feet, needing to move around to release the tension in her muscles. “I’ll head down to the clinic once we’re done here, there’s no rush.”

 

“Uh-huh,” the mechanic said raising one eyebrow before hailing someone on the internal communications network, before clicking out of the screen they had been studying. “Nice try.”

 

A few hours later found Clarke in one of the private clinic rooms cursing every deity that made her a woman and the fuckingawfulhorriblegutwrenching pain that was labor. She was pacing the length of the small room trying to keep her mind off the ache in her back that extended through to her bellybutton. Another contraction ripped through her and she groaned as she leaned over the bed, swearing profusely in both English and what she had picked up from the Azgeda warriors.

 

“Did you know there was a religious group before the initial nuclear fallout that used to believe you had to deliver your children in absolute silence,” Raven said as she watched her friend hobble around, a mischievous glimmer in her expression. “Must have been quite the relaxing experience.”

 

“I suggest you keep ideas like that to yourself or I’ll toss you out on your ass,” Clarke said as she leaned forward. Eight hours in and she was ready for this to be done.

 

“Yeah, right,” Raven snorted and limped over to her to press her fingers into her lower spine. “I’d like to see you try, tubby.”

 

“You’re making fun of me? Now?” Clarke said flabbergasted and Raven chuckled behind her, but her fingers were magic against her stiff muscles.

 

“Hey, I call ‘em as I see ‘em. Besides, it’s one of the few times I think I’ll be able to outrun you,” she replied and pressed harder just where her pain was the worst. Doctor Michaels entered then effectively cutting off Clarke’s scathing reply. He helped her up onto the bed and efficiently checked her progress.

 

“Seven centimeters, Clarke,” he smiled happily and Clarke wanted to punch him in the face. “Won’t be too long now, you’re doing great. It’s a pretty quick delivery for your first, so far.”

 

“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled as she closed her eyes, resting her head back against the pillow, feeling exhaustion start to creep in.

 

“Roan will be back shortly with your supplement drink,” the doctor continued, ignoring her grumbling. “I want you to have as much of it as you can, it will help top your energy up before the main event and keep you hydrated.”

 

Raven laughed at his word choice and Clarke glared at her friend. She felt betrayed by everyone in her company and sighed before clenching her teeth as another contraction coursed through her. She was tired already and still had a long way to go. She rolled over and lay down on her side, rubbing circles over her firm belly. She felt Raven sit down behind her, pressing a heated pad against her lower back that brought her a small measure of relief from her contracted muscles.

 

“Here you go,” Roan’s low voice broke the silence in the room. He held out a metal cup to her filled with a special concoction that was a mix of grounder tradition and modern medicine to help boost her energy and give her some extra fluid intake. She sipped and smiled as the sweet acidic tang of strawberries flooded her mouth.

 

“Good luck, Clarke,” Raven said and leaned down to press a kiss to her friend’s temple, having done her relief shift while Roan took a break to eat. “Can’t wait to meet the little sprout.”

 

“Thank you, Raven,” Roan said as she gave them a happy salute and left the couple alone.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked her, eyes scanning over her cataloguing any changes that may have occurred in the thirty minutes he was gone.

 

Raven had come and kicked him out of the room, telling him that he too needed a break in the lull before the storm, needing a chance to eat and care for himself, especially if he was needed after the birth. There was always a chance something could go wrong, and though no one wanted to entertain the idea, it was silly not to be prepared.

 

She glared up at him and continued sipping her strawberry shake, choosing to ignore the stupid question. He smiled and ran a hand down her hair before rubbing it in slow soothing circles over her belly.

 

When they had discussed traditions for Azgeda and Skaikru births Clarke had been pleasantly surprised. Part of her assumed that with the somewhat savage nature of the grounder people who survived, men would steer clear of the birthing room but Roan had looked positively insulted when she mentioned it. Skaikru men were often in the room, helping as best as they could, but birth was still generally directed by the woman. In space there had also been quite a few cesarean births as there was often issues with extra bleeding.

 

Roan had explained to her that in grounder clans, Azgeda in particular, it was seen as an honour and a duty for the father to partake in the birth and assist with every stage of the process. The woman had to do the lion’s share of work during the pregnancy and in the first months of an infant’s life, so the father’s presence during their birth was essential. He had been attentive and caring ensuring she had anything and everything she needed.

 

“I’m scared,” Clarke admitted quietly once her cup was empty and his eyes flickered up to hers. She reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers.

 

“Not of the birth,” she clarified, seeing the confusion rise in his expression. “Of everything that comes after. I’m not sure I’m cut out to take care of a tiny little human who can’t survive without me.”

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that, Clarke,” he said, a soft smile on his face. “You will be an amazing mother.”

 

“You can’t know that,” she argued, breathing through another contraction. She felt the firm press of the heating pad against her spine and she tried to focus on the simple process of breathing to get her through the pain. The contractions were coming so close now it was basically just an ongoing, extended pain.

 

“Of course I can,” he scoffed and stood to shift her forward on the bed so he could slip in behind her, sitting her up and offering her his chest to lean back against.

“You have taken care of enough children to know that you will be. And you’re not alone.”

 

“You’re not scared?” she asked, turning slightly so she could lean her ear against his chest and listen to his heart. Her contractions were becoming more frequent and she felt the pull of her muscles as they tensed with the pain. It was incredibly humbling to be so aware of her body and every muscle that was working hard to prepare to bring the little life inside her into the world.

 

“No,” he said and she felt inadequate, but smiled as he leaned in close and whispered into her ear. “I have you and there is no one I believe in more than my queen.”

 

“I love you,” she whispered as she nuzzled against his jaw.   


“I love you too,” he rumbled softly in return, kissing her temple. Doctor Michaels entered the room once more and nodded as he settled at the end of the bed.

 

“Excellent,” he said after checking her. “Ready to go? If you’re comfortable in that position I think we’ll try pushing on the next contraction.”

 

Clarke took a deep breath and nodded. This was it. She felt Roan shift behind her, offering his hands for her to hold. She turned her face to breathe in his reassuring and familiar scent.

 

An hour, and a lot of pain, later Clarke pressed a squalling, squirming little boy against her chest and felt her heart expand within her chest. He had a head full of dark hair and had quite the set of lungs on him. She couldn’t believe that he was here and went through the delivery of the afterbirth on autopilot, not even paying attention to the strong hands massaging her sore belly or the people bustling around her.

 

“He’s beautiful,” she whispered and felt Roan’s legs flex alongside her as he brought his arms around her own to cradle both mother and son. The infant rooted around and Clarke shifted to bare her breast for him to find. He latched on immediately and sucked hard, the sensation new and painful but it felt perfectly right.

 

“Thank you,” Roan whispered and she reluctantly tore her eyes away from the child to look at her husband. He was looking at her with open adoration and kissed her softly, cupping her cheek and running his thumb over the small stars on her cheek.

 

“I didn’t do this on my own,” she smiled as he pulled away, but he shook his head and looked down at the now content infant, happily suckling away.

 

“Everything looks perfect, Clarke,” Doctor Michaels said, smiling down at the family before he tucked an additional blanket around the little boy. “It was a textbook delivery. When you’re ready we will bring some water around to clean him up but for now skin-to-skin contact is best for both of you. Dad will get his turn after we clean him off. Congratulations, you were incredible.”

 

“Thank you,” Roan said and Clarke smiled brilliantly up at the doctor as he busied himself helping Melanie clean up around them. She settled back against her husband, her body desperate for rest, but she was too thrilled at the arrival to give in. Instead she allowed the world to move along around her, content to exist in the moment with her new son.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke woke at the soft snuffling cries of her son and the soft click of the door as someone entered. She looked up to see Tyko enter quietly and smiled when Roan handed the baby to her, his disquiet immediately soothed by her nearness. The little boy clutched at the fabric covering her breast already rooting around for food. She shifted him in her arms and helped him latch on and he took to it quickly, pulling hard, one hand fisted against her breast.

 

Clarke looked up again to find Roan watching her with a soft look in his eyes, nodding absently to whatever Tyko was saying. The warrior smiled at her when she met Tyko’s gaze and he bowed slightly before leaving once again.

 

“What was that about?” she asked as Roan settled next to her on the bed, running a hand over the soft downy hair on his son’s head.

 

“Tyko wanted instructions for my marking,” he replied, cautiously running his fingers over the infant’s cheek. “It is generally done at the naming ceremony.”

 

In Azgeda tradition, all new fathers were marked with a new scar when they announced the name of their child. They would have their traditional symbol for family carved into their upper arm, in a place of pride for all to see. A symbol unique to the child would then be added below it, and any further children would be found in order from that point on. The symbol was taken from the ancient Celts and featured three swirling points, flowing away from the open centre. Mothers could also choose to be marked, but that was left until their child celebrated their first birthday to allow ample time for her body to heal and provide for the child it had carried rather than heal a voluntary wound.

 

“Are you sure there aren’t any traditions you want to follow with his name?” Clarke asked, eyes straying up at his face.

 

“None that I wish to honour,” he said with a shake of his head. He had distanced himself from the harsh reigns of the past and didn’t want to continue to pay them any respect. It was time to start fresh, with new traditions.

 

“So, Caelan then?” Clarke asked, the name they had settled on the day before. “According the name book Raven got us it means ‘victorious people’ which may be a bit much, but I like the name.”

 

“Fitting for a future king who has a new land to conquer and a coalition to lead,” Roan rumbled with a smile. The baby squawked, happy and sated, eyes drooping shut once his belly was full. Roan took the tiny bundle and settled him into his bassinette, tucking a blanket securely around the squirming boy.

 

“You need to rest, niron,” Roan said as he sat on the edge of the bed, cupping her cheek. “You haven’t slept enough.”

 

“I’d prefer to be home,” Clarke admitted, glancing around the clinic room that Doctor Michaels had insisted they stay in for at least one more night. Roan looked over at where their son had settled into slumber for at least a couple of hours.

 

“I know,” he nodded, kicking off his shoes and laying down beside her. “We’ll take him home tomorrow.”

 

He settled on top of the sheets, pulling Clarke into his arms and laying her head on his chest. She shifted into a more comfortable position, burrowing her nose into his chest and breathing deeply to drown out the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant. Her body felt entirely depleted, exhausted from the labour and adjusting to breastfeeding all while running on only short periods of rest.

 

“So I fully expect you’ll let me walk home tomorrow,” Clarke murmured recalling a certain conversation a few years back with a smirk. She felt his intake of breath and slid her hand under his shirt to rest against the soft skin of his belly.

 

“Not a chance,” he rumbled, kissing the top of her head as he settled back against the bed, taking the opportunity to rest with her.

 

Clarke knew she had no hope of not being coddled on the way back to their rooms tomorrow, but she had to take the dig at him. She was certain she could walk the short distance. She was sore and certainly exhausted in a way she hadn’t been before, but it was bearable. She was still smiling when she fell asleep, soothed by the steady beat of Roan’s heart under her ear.

 

*~*~*

 

“Oh, Clarke,” Abby said softly, tears glittering in her eyes. “He’s gorgeous.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” Clarke smiled into the tablet, rocking Caelan gently as he fussed. “He’s pretty perfect so far so I think we’ll keep him.”

 

“As if there was ever a doubt,” Raven piped up from her position behind the tablet, having tasked herself as cameraman and computer console all in one. The fact that it gave her an excuse to be in close company with the newest member of Alpha bunker was apparently just an added bonus, though her lingering looks at the little boy said otherwise.

 

“And he’ll have siblings,” Abby murmured and Clarke raised her eyebrows.

 

“Um, aren’t you jumping ahead just a little, mom?” the blonde asked on a laugh.

 

“Sorry, it’s just,” Abby cut herself off as Kane’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “This is the start of our new world. It’s just amazing. I hadn’t even thought about your child. And now you can have more than one. It’s more than I ever imagined.”

 

“I know,” Clarke nodded, throat tightening at the open emotion in her mother’s voice.

 

Abby wasn’t wrong, and Clarke understood where she came from. This new generation of children that Skaikru could have would be given something that they hadn’t had for generations. They would have the freedom to have more than one child and they wouldn’t have to undergo strict testing, especially if they intermixed with the grounders. There wouldn’t be painstaking record keeping checked for three generations to make sure they had the best genetic variance to keep humanity alive. And the little prince in her arms was the start of it all.

 

“How are you feeling, Clarke?” Marcus asked; eyes locked on the lower corner of the screen where she knew Caelan appeared. It was time to get used to being second best in all matters.

 

“I’m okay,” she answered, and felt Roan’s hand squeeze her shoulder. “I’m tired. Adjusting to running on hardly any sleep. But I’m good.”

 

“Remember to keep up your liquids,” Abby reminded her daughter, looking longingly into the screen as if she wished she could climb through the glass. “And put your feet up at least once a day. Sleep when Caelan is napping, at least once a day. That will help you through the night.”

 

“I know, mom,” Clarke smiled at the screen, but her eyes kept straying back to her sleeping son. “I have plenty of people ensuring I’m following your instructions to the letter.”

 

“Damn straight,” Raven said, turning the screen away for a second to show her face to the couple in Beta before focusing it back on the main attraction. “King Daddy over here is a harsh taskmaster so I wouldn’t worry about Clarke, Abby.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Abby said with a small grin. “I just wish we didn’t have to wait months to hold him.”

 

“I know,” Clarke nodded, tears clogging her throat. Roan rubbed her back gently, careful not to disturb the little prince. Her emotions were all over the place and she knew it was normal, but it was hard. Everything felt more intense than before, her highs were higher and her lows were lower. It was hard to know that her mother desperately wanted to be with her for this milestone and unable to.

 

“You just have to book in weekly video calls until we’re cleared to go up top,” Abby said, wiping tears from her eyes and Clarke could only nod. Caelan chose that moment to stir and let out a high-pitched whine.

 

“Don’t let us keep you,” Abby said immediately and Clarke guessed that her normally composed mother needed a chance to work through her emotions in private with Marcus.

 

“I will book Clarke a weekly time slot, Abby,” Raven said and Clarke smiled gratefully up at her friend and didn’t doubt it was already blocked out for both Alpha and Beta.

 

“Congratulations,” Marcus said with a slight catch to his voice. “Caelan is beautiful. You’ve been blessed.”

 

“Thank you, Marcus,” Roan said and Clarke nodded at the screen.

 

“I love you, mom,” the blonde said, locking eyes with Abby. “Thank you, and I promise I’ll be there whenever Raven sets time aside for us.”

 

“I love you too, Clarke,” Abby said and raised a hand to wave at the screen.

 

Caelan had stepped up his fussing, little fists waving in the air and Clarke wiped at her eyes with the back of her free hand as Raven cut off the connection. She adjusted her son and helped him find what he was looking for as Roan kissed her temple and stood to grab a pillow for her to put under her elbow.

 

“Thanks, Rae,” Clarke said once Caelan was settled at her breast. “I assume you’ve already set the time aside?”

 

“Just need to confirm it with Monty and double check against Abby’s schedule,” Raven smiled, reaching a hand out to rub a tiny foot through his ridiculously tiny sock. “You make this look easy, Clarke.”

 

“Less than a week in?” Clarke laughed softly. “It’s pretty easy now. Let’s just hold the praise until he’s running around terrorizing everyone he comes across.”

 

“He’s going to have every last person down here wrapped around his miniscule little finger,” Raven argued, eyes soft. “You’ll have more to worry about ensuring everyone doesn’t spoil him rotten.”

 

Clarke didn’t say anything to that and focused her attention back on the feeding child. She felt like she was finally getting a hang of the whole breastfeeding thing, but it was certainly taking some getting used to. Once Caelan was finished, Roan plucked him from her arms and laid him over his shoulder, rubbing his back gently, encouraging him to burp. Clarke knew it was clichéd, but seeing Roan care so naturally for their son made her love him even more than she thought possible. It still made for an amusing picture seeing the tiny infant perched on his wide shoulder, a hand larger than Caelan’s back rubbing softly as Roan rocked instinctively, soothing the infant as he settled his full belly.

 

“Alright, so both of you make this look easy,” Raven said and Clarke had almost forgotten about her friend who was also watching Roan with a soft smile. “But I’m going to leave you in peace. I know when I’m not needed.”

 

She dipped down to wrap Clarke up into a hug and limped over to where Roan paced and ran a hand down Caelan’s back.

 

“Bye-bye, little prince,” she cooed. “You’re a little too cute for your own good, but I won’t be holding that against you.”

 

*~*~*

 

A week after Caelan’s birth he was officially named and introduced to the members of the bunkers in an elaborate presentation with representatives from each of the clan elders. Raven had set up a camera at one end of the hall and a link to broadcast over to the Beta and Polis. It wasn’t every day a prince was born and announced to all the clans of the coalition. It was a moment to record in history and Roan was slated to be marked immediately after the formal introduction, as per tradition.

 

Caelan had been announced to a round of jubilation and cheer. He had blinked up at the noise, confused but he didn’t cry out. He seemed as stoic as his father and quickly settled back down against Clarke, happy to burrow into her chest and fall promptly back to sleep as if bored by the whole day’s events.

 

The marking ceremony was treated with as much reverence as the naming, especially since it pertained to the king’s first-born child. A low stool had been set out on the dais for him to sit on while the warrior chosen to mark him worked. Roan’s face didn’t betray a hint of pain as the warrior cut away strips of flesh with surgical precision. The main symbol was already carved into the top of his bicep and now the swirling lines below it were in their final stages of completion.

 

Many of the grounder men looked on with pride. Clarke had learned that children were often marked on their fathers in most clans, though in ways unique to each culture. Children were treasured and treated as precious by all members of the community and everyone welcomed the opportunity to celebrate a birth.

 

There were many who wanted to hold the tiny boy, but that would have to wait a few weeks until he’d had a chance to settle and build a bit of immunity to the world around him. Clarke would be spending the next week mainly in their suite for which she was thankful. Her body was already exhausted from the lack of sleep and the strain of healing and breastfeeding. It was different from the weary exhaustion she had felt before, but it taxed her nonetheless.

 

Clarke looked over to see an ointment being rubbed onto Roan’s arm before thin gauze was wrapped around it. The marking was completed and though the celebration would continue into the night, Clarke and Roan were expected to retire and care for the child rather than partake in the celebrations. She thought it might be the most logical of all traditions she had come across.

 

“Thank you all for coming here to welcome our son into our clan and our coalition,” Roan said as he rose and turned to the assembled crowd. Clarke joined him, slipping her hand into his and smiling out at the sea of happy faces.

 

“I hope you all enjoy the feast and festivities prepared in Caelan’s honour,” he continued and there were a few whoops and happy cheers from the crowd, causing a rare smile from the king. “We will leave you now and retire for the night. We thank you for your words of advice and for the abundance of gifts you’ve bestowed on us. Clarke and I are humbled by your kindness and hope to do our best to repay it as we move forward.”

 

The crowd broke into applause and Clarke felt Caelan jerk as he startled awake at the noise, a little whine starting shortly after. His fist flailed angrily and Clarke did her best to shush him. Roan looked down at the little boy before looking back at the crowd.

 

“And that’s our cue to leave,” he joked, pulling his hand out of Clarke’s and settling it on her back as a low laugh ran through the crowd. Clarke was surprised at his good humour, he was generally so serious during his public addresses, but this was a very special occasion. They were quickly bustled off the dais, Caelan’s complaints escalating into cries as they went, and out the entry en route to their rooms.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke sighed happily as she stepped out of the shower and into the steamy little ensuite. She had indulged herself and spent a few extra minutes under the warm spray, letting it cascade over her head and soothe her sore muscles. Carrying the baby and the many hours sitting down with him was making her back as sore as it had been the last few months, and the extra weight on her chest certainly didn’t help.

 

She looked herself over in the foggy mirror as she dried off some of the condensation. It didn’t take long before it fogged over once again, but she caught a glance of her much refreshed face and serene eyes. It was the little things these days, she thought to herself as she scrubbed a towel through her hair, drying it as best as she could before attacking it with a comb.

 

A month into motherhood and Clarke felt like she was finally getting her feet back under her again. Caelan had fallen into a semi-predictable routine during the day and she was encouraging him to try and sleep for longer stretches over night, though she knew that was still a fantasy at this point. But she had plenty of volunteers to help her during the day if she needed anything and tried her best to at least rest while Caelan slept. She finished detangling her hair and dried off, hanging her towels back up and pulling on a long sleeved shirt that fell to the tops of her thighs.

 

She opened the door and walked up to the bed, expecting to see Caelan tucked away into his bassinette and hopefully asleep, looking forward to spending some time with her husband. What she found instead made her slow her steps and wish she had one of the cameras Raven had found. Roan was asleep, apparently exhausted after a long week of council meetings after returning to his normally full schedule for the first time since the little prince had been born. Caelan was perched on his bare chest, ear firmly over his heart, little fists bunched up next to his face. Roan’s hands were resting gently on his back, keeping him safe and secure as he dozed.

 

Clarke crept up to the bed and ran a finger down one chubby cheek before resting her hand on his back. She glanced up at Roan as he stirred, his eyes blinking slowly as he woke up. He smiled a little bashfully when he realized he had fallen asleep and Clarke leaned down and kissed his lips softly before she scooped the little boy up in her hands, shushing him as he stirred, rocking him gently until she tucked him into his bassinette. She stood beside it, rocking the cradle gently until Caelan resettled once more.

 

“Sorry,” Roan rumbled quietly when she joined him on the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I must have been more tired than I thought.”

 

“You’ve been in high demand,” Clarke said with a smile, laying her head down on top of her folded hands on his chest. “And it’s not like you get a long night of unbroken sleep any longer.”

 

“There was a day when I didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours at a time not long ago,” he said shaking his head, running his hands down her spine.

 

“Life in here has made you soft,” Clarke teased and he raised his eyebrows at her when she poked his belly for emphasis though he was as trim and fit as ever. “The mighty king of Azgeda, fearsome ice warrior, can’t handle a little sleep deprivation.”

 

She giggled when he flipped her over, digging his fingers into her sides and tickling her. Clarke bit her lip hard trying to keep her laughter as low as possible, not wanting to wake the sleeping baby and Roan soon relented, bringing his hands up to cup her face before kissing her. He teased her lips, nipping gently at her lower lip until she parted them for him and he rumbled his approval.

 

Clarke dug her hands into his hair and parted her legs so he could shift to lie between them. As she hooked her legs around his hips he ground his hips down into her, and she tugged on his hair making him groan. He leisurely explored her mouth, taking the time to taste and stroke every part of her before he raised his head to look down at her, eyes dark.

 

“Are you certain?” he asked and she smiled softly up at him.

 

“That I want to pleasure my husband?” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes as one of her hands snaked down his naked back and into the waistband of the soft pants he wore while she bucked her hips up. “Absolutely.”

 

“Clarke,” he started to argue and she surged up to kiss him, cutting him off before he could say anything further. She knew he was happy to wait until she felt ready to reengage in all areas of intimacy, but she wanted to do this for him. To give him a little relief from the strain, even if he’d never ask it of her.

 

She slid her hand farther under the waistband of his pants, giving his backside a firm squeeze before snaking it around the front to grasp his straining erection. She sucked on his tongue as she gave him a firm stroke and she felt his breath blow out harshly against her cheek. He groaned as he ran his cheek against hers, resting his face in the hollow of her throat as she increased the pace of her hand.

 

Clarke flicked her thumb over the head of his cock, before continuing her firm strokes. He sucked lightly on her throat and she squeezed her thighs around his hips. He bucked forward into her hand his breaths coming out in sharp puffs of air against her throat. Clarke smiled and twisted her hand, knowing he was getting close.

 

“Let go, Roan,” she whispered and he raised his head to look at her before capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. He thrust against her hand and she hummed happily into the kiss, tugging softly on his hair with her unoccupied hand. It only took a couple more firm strokes before he groaned and there was a spurt of hot liquid that landed on her belly where her nightshirt had ridden up.

 

Roan was panting harshly against her lips, forehead resting against hers as he got his breathing under control. Clarke was flushed hot with her own want, but was too tired to have any interest in pursuing her own pleasure. She extricated her hand from his trousers, wiping her hand on her already soiled shirt with a grin.

 

“You don’t always play fair,” he murmured as he nipped at her earlobe. He nuzzled under her ear, not ready to leave her quite yet.

 

“I expect full and thorough retribution once I’m ready,” she whispered and he hummed an affirmative, dropping wet kisses down the column of her throat, content to taste her skin though she knew she wasn’t the only one who wanted him to put his mouth to better use. She was certainly tempted as he licked along her collarbone and his large hands gripped her waist. Just when she was about to give there was a low whine from the corner of the room where the bassinette sat and she felt Roan chuckle against her skin.

 

“Raven and Tyko could use some practice in a few weeks,” he said as he rolled off her, standing to strip off his soiled trousers before helping her to her feet. He pulled her top over her head before tossing it in the laundry basket and wandering into the ensuite for a wet towel.

 

“And I’m sure once we let them have you, you’ll have a new best friend in short order,” Clarke cooed to the hungry baby as she collected him and sat on the edge of the bed, efficiently settling him in position to feed one more time before a change and what she hoped was at least a four hour stretch of sleep.

 

“Don’t let Tyko hear you say that,” Roan chided as he came back into the room, pausing at the bureau to grab a new set of pajama pants and a soft sleep shirt for her. “He’d be more than happy to find anything that would convince Raven that it’s a great idea.”

 

“I’m sure,” Clarke agreed, knowing that though the couple were very happy together, Tyko always seemed nervous that it was not going to last. Clarke was not of the same opinion. She had seen the change in Raven since they had settled into their relationship and her friend was truly happy. But Clarke doubted she was ready to take such a large step just yet.

 

As Caelan finished, Roan plucked him out of her arms, settling him against his shoulder and rubbing his back until the boy was comfortable once more. Then Roan changed the sleepy prince as Clarke cleaned up. They switched again as Roan washed his hands and Clarke soothed Caelan and laid him in his bassinette before crawling into bed, exhausted after another long day.

 

“I love you,” Clarke whispered as Roan settled up against her back, pulling her against his chest.

 

He nuzzled under her ear before leaning over to switch off the last light, leaving them with only the soft glow of the night light Raven and rigged up for Caelan. The patch of ceiling above him was a blanket of tiny blue and white stars and accurate constellations which left the room awash in a soothing blue glow that never failed to make Clarke think about the blanket of tiny pinpricks that awaited them once it was safe to once again enter the world above.

 

*~*~*

 

“You know you have to let someone else handle him eventually, right?” Clarke whispered to her husband as he cradled their six-week-old son against his chest.

 

Raven and Tyko had come over for a bit of a private dinner with the couple, away from the curious eyes of the members of Alpha. Raven had been eyeing the little bundle for a while, but Roan had yet to relinquish him for anyone else to have a cuddle. Clarke found it both ridiculously adorable and a little annoying, having promised Raven some uninterrupted time with the little prince without others bustling around.

 

Roan glared at her before shifting his eyes to Raven who tried to look away before he noticed her staring. He sighed heavily and Clarke knew she had gotten her way. Clarke had less issue giving up the small child, especially to one of her best friends, but Roan had been very protective of the boy anytime he was with them. It was sweet, but eventually they would want the ability to leave him in someone’s care, if only for a couple of hours so Caelan had to get used to others soon.

 

“As soon as he fusses,” Roan rumbled too quietly to be heard by the others, and Clarke squeezed his shoulder before stepping back to allow him room to stand and walk over to where Raven sat in one of the plush chairs. Clarke gave the mechanic a thumbs up as soon as his back was turned and Raven grinned as the king approached.

 

“Thank you,” Raven said as Roan handed the bundle over to Raven, carefully placing the prince in her arms and watching her critically as she adjusted her hold. “Hello, little man. I’m your auntie Raven, but I’m sure you remember me from last time.”

 

Clarke glanced over at Tyko who was watching his girlfriend avidly, trying and failing to disguise his own envy and desire, but as soon as she looked up at him he carefully put on a toothy grin. Raven’s attention was back on the baby in an instant, and she happily sat with him, chattering away quietly about all the things she planned on showing him as soon as he was old enough to understand. Clarke moved over to the men, running her hand over Roan’s shoulders as she passed him to set out the food on the table. She was happy to have some busy work that didn’t involve feeding or changing or otherwise caring for her son as sweet as the boy was.

 

“See, he’s perfectly happy,” she said with a smile and he huffed and turned his back to help her instead. Clarke bit down on her lip to keep her laugh in, raising her eyes to Tyko who was openly chuckling at his friend.

 

“I’m surprised you actually gave in,” Tyko said to Roan who glared at his Second. “I thought it would take at least another couple of weeks to let Raven coddle him.”

 

“I am perfectly able to strike your soft spots too, my friend,” the king warned in a menacing tone as he glanced over at Raven. Tyko only laughed, knowing Roan was only posturing to cover his discomfort at allowing someone else to handle his son in his presence for the first time, but the warrior still stepped away, moving over to where Raven sat lost in her own world.

 

“I’m proud of you,” Clarke whispered and wrapped her arms around him. She knew it was hard for him and doubted he would ever really be comfortable with the idea of others caring for his child, or any other future children. He glanced down at her with a resigned look.

 

Clarke pushed up on her toes and kissed him softly, distracting him from the situation for a moment. Until Caelan squawked and he abruptly pulled back, whipping his head around only to find the little boy gripping Tyko’s finger tight, still content in Raven’s arms. Clarke rubbed his shoulders before turning and walking towards her friend. She’d have to have Raven over while Roan was out, at least until he was more comfortable.

 

“Alright, my little prince,” Clarke cooed with a significant look at Raven who pouted but nodded at her and held the baby out to her. “Time to eat!”

 

She turned back with the boy nestled against her shoulder, seeing Roan’s shoulders relax a fraction as she approached the table. She smiled at him as he held out a chair for her and dropped a kiss on her head. The rest of the meal passed smoothly and Clarke hugged Raven tight an hour later, promising her an hour the following day if she could sneak away from work over lunch.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I have to apologise for the wait on this chapter. Totally not what I anticipated. I had the misfortune to catch a bit of a flu bug that apparently decided to become a demon set on destruction and I ended up in hospital for a few days with pneumonia. Funny thing, you shouldn't ignore how sick you feel when you're pregnant apparently. Who knew? ;) But I'm on the road to recovery, been home more than a week, but it's left me with pretty much zero energy all the time so finishing all this and editing was a bit too much. But it's done! And edited! Though I may at some stage in the future come back with a 100% clear head to it up again. 
> 
> So this is the last actual chapter of the story. I have an epilogue that is half-written, and I will not promise when it will be finished with how I currently feel. It won't be much, probably not long, just a couple of peeks into the future of our favourite friends. I'm hoping I'll polish it up and have it up in a couple of weeks, but again, I have no idea when I have enough energy for these sorts of things. 
> 
> More importantly:
> 
> Thank you everyone for all your support and your amazingly kind words and incredible response to this story. It was completely unexpected and I am so touched and moved by you all. I really didn't think the story would get much traction at all, especially with the particular pairing, but you have just blown me away. So thank you. 
> 
> And enjoy :)

“Hey, Rae,” Clarke greeted, adjusting the squirming baby on her hip as she leaned in to hug. “You wanted to see me?”

 

“Hello, little prince,” Raven smiled at the gurgling nine-month old, who was already reaching out for her. “Come here, handsome. Give your mama a break.”

 

Clarke passed her son over to Raven and he immediately smiled at his favourite person and tugged on the loose strands of hair around her shoulders. He started babbling away as he sat in her lap, ignoring everything but Raven. Clarke always found the sight of it quite hilarious as her son always looked like he was relaying something extremely serious to her friend in baby babble. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised that his next words after ‘mama’ and ‘noni’ was some variant on Raven.

 

“Alright, let’s turn you around here, buddy,” Raven said as she adjusted the baby in her lap so she could type a few commands into the system before turning to Clarke. “Ready for some amazing news?”

 

“Always,” Clarke smiled, eyes going to the screens, curious what Raven was so desperate to show her. “Roan should be here any minute, he got held up in the hall with one of the Trishana kru farmers who wanted to ask him about something I have absolutely no interest in hearing about.”

 

“It was about taking part in a meeting about what crops we need to prioritize when we return above ground,” Roan’s voice interrupted along with the click of the door closing behind him to Raven’s office.

 

“See? Nothing I could help with,” she winked at him as he shook his head at her.

 

“You had something to show us?” Roan prompted instead, turning his eyes to Raven before they flickered up to the screen. He brushed a hand over his son’s head but even though he was normally very enthusiastic about being toted around in his father’s arms, no one could beat Raven when she was in his company.

 

“Look at the latent radiation levels,” Raven said quietly pointing up to some numbers on the screen. Clarke scanned the screens and let out a breath.

 

“We’re within the safe range?” she asked, excitement blooming in her chest. “We can go outside?”

 

“Probably,” Raven nodded with a small smile. “They are still high, but they have been steady for a couple of weeks. I needed to make sure it wasn’t just a temporary dip. Definitely survivable. Especially for you.”

 

“Clarke’s tolerance has never been tested,” Roan pointed out, and there was a warning in the rumbling tones of his voice.

 

“That’s partially true,” Raven argued. “She was the only one who didn’t need any treatment after your black rain exposure when you first came to the bunker. It is pretty clear that she has the best chance at surviving. And all the tests I’ve been conducting with Abby have basically proved that her tolerance is higher than anyone else.”

 

“But you are not completely certain,” Roan argued and Clarke could see his shoulders tensing for a fight.

 

“We never will be,” Clarke said, eyes flickering back up to the screen. “But these levels are within the range for any one of us to survive. But you’re concerned people may still get sick.”

 

“Yes,” Raven acknowledged. “We have been isolated down here for almost five years, before the deathwave hit, the radiation levels had been gradually increasing over time. I’m not saying that we won’t survive going out, but it may be best to send out a few people to do some further testing and ensure that they have no issues.”

 

“We will take the matter to the council and ask for volunteers,” Roan said with a nod before turning his eyes to Clarke. “Not you.”

 

“I don’t think you have any right to stop me,” Clarke argued. “I have the best chance to survive it with no issues. There’s no reason to be over-cautious.”

 

Roan’s eyes shifted to their son and he raised his eyebrows at her in silent question and Clarke sighed. She had a feeling it would take time before he would allow either one of them outside those doors much to her disappointment.

 

“We have exposure suits and we have finished work on the access hatch,” Raven said eyeing the couple. “I still want the first group suited up so they can take a fresh probe before they try full exposure.”

 

“Agreed,” Roan nodded, already compiling a mental list for what he needed to do in order to make this happen. “And we can do this immediately?”

 

“As soon as you’re ready to, I can get you outside,” Raven nodded.

 

“This is good news,” Roan said with a smile, laying a hand on Clarke’s shoulder.

 

She knew he was as anxious as she was to see the sky. Half a year ago Jasper and Monty had successfully released the video drones and they had been able to scan almost the entire area between Alpha and Beta bunkers as well as a large section north. They had seen some evidence that there was vegetation growing, but there were a lot of areas that were still arid. Temperatures were still below normal which would make farming difficult, but the bunkers’ systems would be able to continue to provide food and fresh water for years to come if necessary. It was important to start exploring what was left of the area.

 

“You know you can’t be in the first group either,” Clarke said and Roan’s eyes flashed at her. “If there’s any chance that these readings are wrong, we can’t risk you either.”

 

“I will not leave anyone else to risk their life in place of mine,” Roan argued firmly but Clarke shook her head as he squared his body off against her.

 

“Our people need you, Roan,” she said firmly. “More today than they did five years ago. Too many in here rely on you. Too many people in Beta and Polis rely on you now. I understand what you want to prove, but in this case, you can’t be first.”

 

“Clarke,” Roan sighed, obviously not convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes focused solely on her.

 

“No, Roan,” she said as she stood to face him. “You have become the leader our people need. We are no longer a group of ten krus locked away waiting for a chance to escape and go back to the status quo. People are happy now. There have already been relationships, partnerships, friendships, even marriages and pregnancies between clans since we came together. We are seeing the change we wanted and it’s because they look up to you. They rely on _you_ to lead them. Please don’t risk all of this just because you think you still need to prove something to yourself.”

 

He watched her in silence, his eyes serious and withdrawn, but he was listening to her. Clarke laid her hand on his chest, the way she always did when she wanted him to feel that she was there with him, supporting him when he needed it the most. But she didn’t want him risking anything he didn’t need to, especially when they would have an army of volunteers for this task and it was only a few more hours. One scouting party, then he could walk out those doors, and she would be by his side.

 

“Alright,” he sighed and a warm smile grew over her face, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips, uncaring that Raven was probably watching the whole exchange so she could relay it later to their friends. Caelan squealed and Clarke laughed, turning to see him standing up in Raven’s lap, smiling and reaching for his parents.

 

“Mama!” he pleaded, eyes switching between his parents. “Noni!”

 

“Come here, poppet,” Clarke cooed as she hefted the boy in her arms and he gurgled happily. “Soon you will be able to see the sky, baby boy!”

 

“Clarke,” Roan warned even as his hand closed on her hip.

 

“We go out when you do,” she said and the look she gave him left no room for argument. He shook his head but dropped a kiss on her temple before stealing Caelan from her arms making the boy squeal in glee. Raven chose to stay silent but smiled up at Clarke when she looked over at her friend, excitement glittering in her dark eyes. They were almost free.

 

*~*~*

 

It had taken five groups of volunteers and three days before Roan and Raven felt comfortable enough with the test results to agree that they could unseal the bunker. Roan had given in after another attempt to partake in the first expedition and they had both agreed that they would go outside together when they unsealed the doors for the first time. Clarke couldn’t wait and buckled her jacket tight, tugging up her fur-lined hood. There was apparently snow on the ground, temperatures only just above freezing.

 

“Here you go, mama,” Raven said as she passed the well-dressed boy to his mother, helping Clarke adjust the sling she carried him in before tucking an extra blanket around him. He looked annoyed at the turn of events and frowned up at his mother critically, his light blue eyes skeptical.

 

“Oh, stop,” Clarke admonished with a soft smile. “If all goes well it means you finally get to meet your grandmother.”

 

Caelan continued to look skeptically up at her as he tried to move his arms but his many layers of clothing restricted them. Raven laughed and made faces at him until he was gurgling at her once again.

 

“Ready?” Roan asked as he approached, dressed in his old heavy Azgeda furs. It was a striking picture for Clarke who had forgotten how imposing he looked in his heavy layers, topped off by an even thicker cloak he had tucked at the bottom of one of his trunks. She wondered if he would feel the cold sharply now that they had all adjusted to the climate controlled temperatures of the bunker.

 

“Absolutely,” Clarke smiled at him and moved toward the door, she took a deep breath as Roan nodded at James who stood near the control panel, ready to unseal the bunker. James turned and keyed in the code and two warriors turned the levers that unlocked the massive door. The sound of grating metal echoed through the hallway, the group of people behind them whispering excitedly. Anyone who wished to go outside was free to do so but they had limited the first group to about two hundred people, just to keep it manageable. Once it was deemed safe, they would work out a guard and entry system, but for the first trip outside it was one big show.

 

The first gust of fresh air made Clarke’s skin prickle, the biting cold quickly entering the small space and she was glad for her extra layers of warm furs. Roan looked over at her, eyes glittering with excitement and took his first steps out the door. The hallway that led down to the bunker was dark, but they had spotlights ready to go, flooding the area in light. Clarke breathed deep, savouring the earthy smell of the hallway and looked around. She followed Roan closely up the stairs, too excited to do anything but push ahead as quickly as he was.

 

Clarke inhaled deeply as she stepped out onto the landing, clearing the last of the steps and walking out onto the frost covered ground. Her breath puffed out around her in clouds of condensation and her nose and eyes prickled from the icy, fresh air. She took a deep breath that stung as it entered her lungs but she let out a happy laugh of relief as she looked up at the grey sky above her, the dull sunlight trying its best to break through the clouds.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Clarke said, turning her eyes back to Roan who stood beside her, eyes intent on the area around them before he turned back to her.

 

“It is,” he agreed with a smile, and Clarke blushed at the look in his eyes. She swatted him softly on the arm and adjusted Caelan in his sling to look out.

 

“Look, poppet,” she whispered to the little boy who seemed awed by all the new visual input. “It’s the sky. Soon this is where we’ll build our houses and live all the time. We’ll grow food and build fires to keep us warm. When the sun comes out in summer there will be grass and flowers and trees. You’re going to love it.”

 

Caelan gurgled happily, eyes on the world around them, unable to understand the incredible magnitude of the experience. Clarke just took a moment to breathe freely, loving the influx of scents and sounds that she had started worrying she was going to forget.

 

“Wow,” Raven’s voice chimed in as she came up beside Clarke. The girls exchanged happy giggles as the bunker residents continued to spill out into the frozen landscape, too happy to be free to worry about the cold. They had made it.

 

*~*~*

 

“Hi, mom,” Clarke said, voice catching on the lump of emotion in her throat as the door finally came to a halt. Abby’s arms were tight around her within seconds and the tears in her eyes spilled over. She breathed in deeply, amazed at how familiar her mother still smelled and reveled in being able to hold her mother once again.

 

“Oh, Clarke,” Abby said as she pulled back, tears shining in her eyes as she scanned Clarke’s face carefully, cataloguing any minor change that may not have been visible over the video link. The women pulled apart and Clarke glanced over her mother’s shoulder and smiled at Marcus who immediately came up and wrapped his arms around her too, holding her longer than he ever had before, but Clarke returned every bit of strength with her own embrace.

 

“It’s so good to see you,” the older man whispered as he pulled back, his eyes glancing over her shoulder where she knew Roan waited to greet them as well, Caelan held firmly in his father’s arms. She could hear him gurgling away, wondering whose attention he was being denied.

 

Abby glanced over at Clarke asking for permission before she approached the king and the little prince who cooed happily, picking up on the atmosphere in the room. Her mother wrapped a careful arm around Roan and said a quiet hello and smiled brilliantly as he held out the squirming boy for her to hold. He had gotten much better at handing off the boy these days than he had in the beginning.

 

“Hello, Caelan,” Abby said awed and Marcus stepped around her to shake hands with Roan before he too was drawn to the new life. “Oh, you are just perfect aren’t you?”

 

Clarke smiled and wiped at the tears in her eyes, watching the change come over Abby as she finally held her grandson. She tore her eyes away as the people of Beta who up until now had been patiently given the family space. It didn’t take long to spot some familiar faces in the crowd.

 

Aeir and Rose stood off to one side, but in front of the crowd anxious to either watch the spectacle or escape out into the cold air. Roan moved past Clarke and hugged his sister warmly before treating his niece to the same affection.

 

“Long time no see,” Clarke teased her sister-in-law before she too wrapped the woman in a hug, happy to be reunited with her friend. She doubted her mother would be letting Caelan go any time soon, but she glanced over her shoulder just in case.

 

“Let her have her moment,” Aeir whispered in her ear. “There is plenty of time and she has been buzzing in excitement since you told us you were coming. I doubt she’s been able to sleep.”

 

Clarke nodded her head and greeted Rose as well, amazed at how tall she was, but she supposed five years had taken her from child to almost teenager and that was quite the significant development. She scanned the rest of the assembled crowd and her face split into a wide grin.

 

“Monty!” Clarke cried as she ran over to her long-time friend, hugging him tight.

 

“What am I, chopped liver?” Jasper asked as he popped up beside them and Clarke laughed in delight before wrapping him up in an equally enthusiastic hug.

 

Jasper was followed closely by Harper and even Murphy and Emori were happy enough to exchange hugs, the shared joy spreading over everyone. Clarke’s enthusiastic greetings with her friends seemed to break the spell that had fallen over the people gathered around and soon friends were reuniting and conversation was flowing amongst the crowd.

 

The members from Alpha who had made the trek to Beta were soon settled inside to get out of the icy weather and rest after a long drive. Their party was small, only thirty people had been chosen to come along to the unsealing of Beta, but it was enough to spark a jovial atmosphere. They would spend a few days at Beta, finalizing the people chosen to make the trek to Polis the following week to see if there was any chance of easily unsealing the last of the three bunkers.

 

Abby happily carried her young grandson down to the canteen where the people had prepared plenty of food for their guests. The leaders of the different krus all enthusiastically greeted the king, happy to express their satisfaction with life in Beta in person and Roan found himself much busier than he probably had anticipated being. But he looked surprisingly relaxed as he spoke with everyone, obviously delighting in the fact that they were as happy and well cared for as Alpha’s population had been.

 

Clarke didn’t escape attention herself, especially when she sat with the little prince on her lap next to her mother. She took the time to catch up with her friends and listen to the stories many wanted to share with her and the other Alpha members, the temptation of familiar, yet new, faces proving too much.

 

*~*~*

 

When they reached Polis it became apparent that they would not be getting the group out quickly. Raven looked over the area critically, already putting her worst-case scenario in place. They would need vehicles and labourers to remove the rubble left behind from the Polis tower that was partially collapsed over the entryway. It was going to be heavy work, but it was doable.

 

The digging out process took over a month, but they had plenty of volunteers, all eager to be reunited with family and friends. They had built a camp to house the workers and neither Roan nor Clarke were willing to be away from the site for very long so they often stayed. Raven was overseeing the project, as well as trying to establish if any of Polis was still useable as a base or if they should focus on establishing a new city, free from the ghosts of the past. Clarke was certainly more inclined to the latter, but understood the usefulness of at least trying to find building material in the old capitol.

 

They were going to open the door to Polis in just under an hour and Clarke was taking a break while Caelan napped and they waited for Raven and Roan to return. Everyone was thrilled they would be reunited soon and Octavia had been on the radio every five minutes asking if they were cleared to open up yet. Clarke had laughed at the conclusion of the last radio called when the young girl threatened Bellamy with castration if they didn’t open the doors at the first available moment.

 

Clarke looked up as the flap to the large tent moved back and squealed in happy surprise as Bellamy’s curly head ducked under the canvas. She threw her arms around his neck and laughed as he lifted her off the ground, equally happy to see her. As soon as her feet touched the ground once more a second set of arms pulled her away from Bellamy and Clarke had her arms full of a giggling Octavia.

 

“I’m so happy to see your face,” the brunette said as she pulled back from Clarke. “I know you wanted us to wait for you, but I just couldn’t. And I am not spending one more night underground for the rest of my life, I swear on anything that has ever been holy.”

 

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Clarke said with a laugh, her eyes cutting over to Bellamy who was shaking his head, knowing Octavia’s threats had eventually won out. “And I’m pretty sure you’ll have a change of heart after a night in the tents. You haven’t felt cold like that before, I promise.”

 

“I will gladly risk the hypothermia in exchange for fresh air,” Octavia said with a shake of her head and Caelan chose that moment to make his presence known, woken by the sudden noise. Octavia’s eyes widened and a grin split her face, excitement evident in every one of her beautiful features.

 

“Where is he?” she nearly squealed as her eyes tracked the noise to the bed of furs where a little fist was flailing. Clarke went to collect the boy, hushing him gently when he fussed. Caelan stared at her for a moment blinking sleepily up at her, but as she raised him up to face her friends he looked a little contemplative. Octavia cooed at him and soon enough the little flirt was chortling happily at the pretty young woman. Clarke glanced up at Bellamy discreetly to find him watching her son with a soft smile.

 

“He’s beautiful, Clarke,” Bellamy said reaching a finger out for the tiny tot to grab, eyes straying over to hers. “Congratulations.”

 

“Thank you,” Clarke beamed, happy to finally be reunited with everyone once again. Soon Roan would return with Raven and she couldn’t wait to have all her favourite people in the same room once more. Caelan squirmed impatiently in her arms, trying with all his might to grab onto to Octavia’s long hair as she continued to make faces at him.

 

“May I?” Octavia asked a little unsurely, as the little boy reached his hands toward her once more babbling at her.

 

“Of course,” Clarke said with a smile, handing him off to Octavia who fussed for a moment trying to figure out the best way to hold the enthusiastic baby who insisted on tugging with all his might on her hair.

 

“I can’t believe you managed to get him away from Abby,” Bellamy commented, laughing as Octavia winced and tried to extract her hair from Caelan’s fists. The boy was laughing as he found a new grip every time she managed to move his hands and seemed absolutely enthralled with his new game and playmate.

 

“She offered to keep him at Beta while we came here,” Clarke said, finally giving in and helping the brunette save her long hair, moving behind her and braiding it quickly to keep the temptation away. “But as much as I appreciated the offer, I doubt Roan will let him out of his sight any time soon.”

 

“I won’t let either one of you out of my care,” Roan’s voice cut in as he entered the tent, holding the flap open for Raven who squealed happily when she saw Bellamy and Octavia.

 

“I’m going to kill you, your majesty. You didn’t tell me they were already letting them out!” Raven said as she punched Roan in the arm, making Bellamy raise his eyebrows before he found his arms full of an enthusiastic mechanic.

 

“I told you Clarke would be overseeing the unsealing if we didn’t make it in time,” Roan argued with a huff. “You were the one who insisted I take you up to the northern wall to assess the damage immediately after we finished at the tavern.”

 

“I thought we had another hour. It was less urgent than this,” Raven said from Bellamy’s arms and Clarke laughed. Roan moved closer and shook hands with Bellamy after Raven moved over to Octavia, hugging her carefully with Caelan held between them looking proud as punch that the two women were both cooing over him.

 

“You’ve got quite the little flirt on your hands,” Bellamy said to Roan who shook his head, looking warmly over at where his son was holding court.

 

“He must get it from his mother,” Roan said and Clarke snorted, moving up to stand beside him.

 

“I’m not sure we should start this argument again, especially since Aeir is here and can confirm these things immediately,” Clarke pointed out and Roan scowled at her, doing his best to look fierce, before moving over to pluck Caelan from Octavia’s arms as he greeted the young Skaikru warrior.

 

“I may have to threaten her with banishment soon,” he grumbled as Caelan tugged on his nose, happy to see his father once more.

 

The little prince touched his stubbly cheeks carefully, but remained unimpressed by his father’s facial hair. Roan and Clarke had already learned to keep their hair tied back at all times and the baby looked a little disappointed to discover he had nothing but fur to tug on when he was lifted higher in his father’s arms. But he tugged and pulled all the same, digging his little fingers deep into the dark pelt, looking up into his father’s eyes for approval and grinning widely showing off his new teeth.

 

“You just hate not being so enigmatic any longer,” Clarke teased as she watched him interact with Caelan and glanced over at where Raven and Octavia were busy chattering away. Roan huffed and refused to reply, which made her smile brilliantly up at him, knowing she was right.

 

When she turned back to Bellamy she found him watching her with a soft expression, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a half grin.

 

“What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious, stepping closer to her husband without noticing.

 

She was used to acting naturally and casually around Roan in Raven’s company, comfortable around friends and that had naturally included the Blake siblings, but she hadn’t realized that maybe it would look odd. They hadn’t had five years of daily interactions with him to learn that eventually his icy and serious demeanor melted away and that he was happy to have her tease him among friends.

 

“It’s just nice to see you so happy, Clarke,” Bellamy admitted with a flush and Clarke’s expression softened, warmth suffusing her chest. She wrapped him up in a quick hug with a quiet thanks before reaching for her son who was watching his mother with interest.

 

“I have to feed and change him before I get him dressed to face the elements,” she said and Roan passed Caelan over to her, she could tell he was getting tired of being denied what he wanted now that the excitement had faded. “I’ll meet you out by the bonfire in about twenty minutes.”

 

“Alright,” Bellamy agreed and Roan kissed her cheek before he followed the younger man out of the tent. She knew Roan had been looking forward to seeing Bellamy, and she assumed that they were both happy to have a few moments on their own.

 

Raven and Octavia were apparently happy to stay and chattered happily as she fed the boy, helping distract him as she cleaned him up before wrapping him in warm furs and tucking him into a sling, facing forward on her chest. Raven helped her into a heavy winter coat that was wide enough to encompass them both and then the trio made their way outside into the bracing cold. Caelan gurgled happily as he saw the sky, eyes darting all over, taking in the bustle of people and noise.

 

“I can’t believe we’re finally free,” Octavia said happily, spinning in a wide circle as they walked toward where a large bonfire was constantly burning in hopes to keep the area a little warmer. The temperature still dropped sharply at night, and though it should be late summer or maybe early autumn at a stretch, they were already waking up to frost on the ground in the morning.

 

“It’s pretty amazing,” Clarke agreed. “We were all going a bit stir-crazy I think, especially some of our more remote clansmen. They weren’t used to constantly dealing with so many people and had a bit of trouble really adjusting to life underground.”

 

“Yeah, we had the same problems,” Octavia agreed, eyes never straying from the sky. “Even Ilian was getting antsy the last few weeks and he’s been calm throughout the process. But once we knew you were coming, it was hard to keep everyone from getting eager to get out.”

 

Clarke spied Indra and Ilian standing beside Roan and Bellamy in easy conversation. Roan looked up at them as they approached, his eyes soft as always when they landed on Clarke, and it never failed to make her warm all over. His open adoration for her these days was one of the most amazing things to come of life on the ground for her and their newly acquired freedom just made everything feel like things were finally settling where they were always supposed to.

 

“Haiplana,” Indra greeted Clarke with an inclination of her head and Clarke smiled warmly at the Trikru woman.

 

“Hello, Indra,” Clarke greeted and turned to Octavia’s husband. “Hello, Ilian.”

 

“Haiplana,” the dark haired man greeted, glancing down at the little prince. “And hello to you hainofa.”

 

Caelan gurgled happily as all eyes turned to him but the glowing reds and yellows of the fire quickly distracted him. The conversation flowed easily between the members around the fire, it felt as if it was just as natural, standing out in the open under a darkening sky, as it was in a computer console room in a bunker. Clarke smiled softly feeling like they had finally made it through the trails and could get to work rebuilding and truly starting to live once again.

 

Hours later, tucked close against Roan’s body, the air freezing cold around them she realized that they could do this. They could rebuild and restart on what was left of the surface. They had finally succeeded in what they set out to do so many years ago.

 

*~*~*

 

They had debated about the best place to build the main city and settled on the large plain between Alpha and Beta bunkers. It would allow them to utilize the supplies and facilities available inside both until the earth rebalanced and vegetation grew well once again. The first buildings to go up were large barracks the people of Polis could move into to save them the time journeying from the old capitol to where they were going to rebuild. There was some reshuffling of families inside both bunkers as singles and younger members moved into the large bunkrooms, happy to enjoy a bit of the freedom offered by life aboveground.

 

The winter was colder than they expected, a deep freeze making the farm and crop-planting experts a little nervous. Roan and Marcus decided that they would have to rely a little on trial and error, hoping to be able to produce something once the ground was soft enough to plant. Raven was working closely with Monty and a couple of climate experts from Beta hoping to try and predict how the weather patterns may develop over the next spring and summer season. They knew it would be a short growing season, and as Clarke had predicted, they relied heavily on Azgeda knowledge, a people who were used to living in a very harsh and cold climate.

 

“Clarke?” her mother’s voice made the blonde look up from where she was reading to Caelan. The little boy squealed happily and waddled over to his grandmother who was happy to scoop him up for a cuddle. Abby tickled the little boy making him squeal happily as he babbled away, obviously regaling the older woman with everything his mother had been reading to him.

 

“I’m ready to go,” Clarke smiled, rising off the cushion she had snuggled up on with her son. Her mother and Marcus had convinced her and Roan to leave Caelan with them for the night, offering the parents a rare night alone. Roan had been called away for a last minute meeting, but had asked her to dress warmly. Clarke was happy to assume they’d be going outside for a little while, looking forward to the crisp air.

 

“’Night, poppet,” Clarke said as she kissed Caelan’s chubby cheeks. “Noni and mama will see you in the morning.”

 

“We’ll have lots of fun, won’t we?” Abby said as the boy looked solemnly up at his mother, sensing something different about his visit with grandma. He was generally easy to sit, but he was getting more opinionated about saying goodbye.

 

“Mama will be back soon,” Clarke cooed and gathered her jacket, pointing to the bag of supplies she’d left on the table to her mother, trying to make it appear as casual as possible. The deception felt a little wrong, but if it meant escaping without tears and the guilt that followed, Clarke would take it.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” her mother said with a smile as she helped Caelan toddle over the floor, letting him lead her to where the book had been left and Clarke smiled and nodded. She slipped quietly out of the door, heavy jacked tucked under her arm and went in search of her husband. He’d asked her to meet her by the airlock door twenty minutes from now, so she still had time.

 

She walked through the bustling hallway; it seemed less imposing and claustrophobic these days even with more people milling around, but she supposed it was due to the fact that she could come and go as she pleased. She wasn’t a prisoner any longer, and the air felt less stale than before.

 

“Clarke!” Bellamy called out as he exited the canteen, arm draped casually around a pretty brunette he’d introduced as his girlfriend shortly after they opened Polis. “I hear you have a night off from the tiny terror.”

 

“I love how fast gossip spreads,” Clarke muttered with a smile. “And you’re the one who constantly gives in to him. You’re spoiling him.”

 

“Yep,” Bellamy smiled brilliantly and Briar grinned up from his side. “I have nearly a year to catch up on if I want to beat out Raven for favourite non-family person in his life.”

 

“You’re as good as,” Clarke rolled her eyes, missing the softening of his expression. “He’ll be calling you uncle soon enough. He’s already got ‘mama’, ‘noni’ and ‘gammy’ down. The way he babbles I’m surprised he hasn’t assigned you a title yet.”

 

“So where is the haihefa?” Briar asked softly.

 

She was very quiet and it had taken her a while to get used to the idea that her partner was close with the king and queen, sitting in wide-eyed terror through their first shared dinner. Roan had barely spoken during the meal because every time he asked her a question she would be left stammering and blushing, much to Octavia’s amusement who assured both monarchs that it would just take her some time. It had apparently taken the Delfikru girl over a month to say more than ‘hello’ to Octavia so Clarke made sure she filled as much of the conversation as she could, with Octavia’s help. It seemed to work, as Briar was quite happy to speak to Clarke even on her own. Roan was still another matter, but Clarke found it hard to blame her. She remembered a time where she had found the idea of facing him a little nerve wracking, no matter how filled with righteous indignation she had been at the time.

 

“He’s waiting for me, but I’ve got a bit of time,” Clarke answered with a smile. “It’s not often I get the time to just take it slow these days. We’re always busy.”

 

“Yeah, I’m still sore from that last house raising,” Bellamy complained.

 

They had been busy building and erecting new structures over the past few weeks, trying to get as much set up as possible before the change in weather meant the focus had to shift to preparing for farming. Apart from additional dormitories they had built a few storage buildings, a communal hall that would serve as an above ground canteen during the summer months, and a smithy for tools. There were plans for more, including private dwellings for families to begin shortly. They had many willing hands and the small township was quickly taking shape.

 

“I’m sure you’ll survive, Bell,” Clarke grinned and they continued to chat as the couple accompanied her for the stretch of hallway between the canteen and the upper dormitories.

 

“I heard Murphy and Emori have asked to move in to one of the new smaller houses,” Briar said as they halted outside of the dorm, eyes flicking up to Bellamy and Clarke saw a glimmer of hopefulness in them.

 

“Yes, one of the share houses I think,” Clarke nodded. “Murphy has worked hard to get them a spot from what I’ve heard. He approached Roan as soon as we told everyone about them. He’s had to be very protective of Emori and I think that resonated with the king.”

 

“Monty mentioned there were a few issues with her being accepted at the beginning,” Bellamy said gravely. “But we should be getting enough houses up to move most people out that want to by the time we need to start planting.”

 

“At least into share housing, yes,” Clarke agreed with a nod. “I think most people would prefer to live above ground if they can. I certainly would.”

 

“Well I happen to know someone who has the ear of the man in charge,” Bellamy teased and Clarke shook her head with a smile.

 

“We have plenty of people who need their own space before we do,” Clarke argued, knowing that she would be waiting to move out possibly longer than most. They had their own private quarters down here and she was happy to stay as long as everyone else was provided for.

 

“Well, enjoy your evening, haiplana,” Briar smiled at Clarke who apparently had yet to convince her to call her Clarke.

 

“You too,” Clarke smiled warmly at the couple as she scurried up the stairs, knowing that she was running a little late now.

 

She was waved through by the guard at the door and shrugged into her heavy coat, searching for gloves after buttoning it up tight around her body. There was a light wind up and she wished she’d brought her cloak, already shivering lightly in wind, her curls moving softly around her, unbound for once. She spotted Roan talking to Tyko just outside the entry to the passageway and hurried over.

 

“Azplana,” Tyko nodded as she came up and Clarke smiled at him.

 

She had heard from her husband that Raven had agreed to move into a recently freed up family suite with him, taking their relationship another massive step forward and Clarke thought her friend was probably just as excited as the tall warrior about the new arrangement. They would be staying inside the bunker for the foreseeable future because most of Raven’s work remained in Alpha’s command centre and it was still hard to remove the mechanic from her equipment. She got a little antsy every time she was too far away from her ability to check in on her daily figures.

 

“Ready?” Roan asked, moving closer to her as he shook Tyko’s hand. His eyes roamed over her, lightening as he saw her loose curls and she smiled at him.

 

“Lead the way,” Clarke said, waving at Tyko as Roan took her hand, their boots crunching over the frozen ground. They walked in silence, Clarke taking the time to just enjoy the fresh air and the quiet sounds that whispered on the wind. There were people out and about watching as the sun set in the distance, the dull yellow and reds bleeding over the sky.

 

“Was it tough to leave him?” Roan asked after he had led her slightly away from the bustle of the bonfire and newly erected buildings.

 

It was wonderful to see so many of their people interacting and moving around. There was always light and noise around the village now, something she hoped would only grow as time passed. She looped her arm through his, moving closer and pressing her body against his, he had obviously thought things through and wore a heavy fur cloak over his jacket.

 

“He hardly noticed,” Clarke answered. “But that didn’t make it easy either. I know he’ll be happy with mom, but it’s hard giving up control.”

 

Roan hummed and she could hear the smirk on his face. He was generally the one who didn’t want to leave Caelan with anyone and probably enjoyed Clarke getting a bit of a taste of her own medicine.

 

“Where are we going?” Clarke asked, glancing up at him as he led them further away from the bunkers and the open field, into an area she knew led to a bit of a raised clearing that may have been a meadow before the path of fiery destruction left it bare and struggling for life.

 

“You’ll see,” he answered, throwing an arm around her shoulders, taking the edge of his cloak with him and wrapping her up in it. She burrowed into his side, appreciating the added protection against the wind and the excuse to cuddle close. They walked for another ten or so minutes further into the woods until they got to the edge of the field where Roan slowed and stopped, stooping to pick up a bag he’d left behind a tree. Clarke smiled at him and his eyes glittered in return.

 

He unclipped his cloak, throwing it around her shoulders as he laid out a tick fur, presumably for them to sit on next to the base of one of the largest trees. He placed the bag beside it and sat with his back against the tree, holding a hand up to her to help her sit between his legs. Clarke shrugged out of the heavy cloak and laid it over them to ward off the chill, leaning against Roan’s chest and looking out into the slowly fading light of the open plain the view from the tree offered them. Roan searched for something in the bag and pulled out a familiar green thermos much to Clarke’s delight.

 

“What exactly did you do to convince them to give you this?” Clarke asked as she inhaled the creamy warm aroma of the hot chocolate in the container, eagerly watching him produce two cups. He huffed and didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow at her, still not one to answer silly questions. He poured a measure in each cup and held one out to her. Clarke sipped happily, smiling softly at her husband.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke said, leaning back while carefully holding the cup to kiss him softly. He settled back against the tree and she leaned against him as they both sipped from their mugs. Clarke leaned her head against his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her waist holding her close under their makeshift blanket.

 

“Is this your grand romantic plan?” Clarke teased once they had both finished and the cups were beside them on the cold ground, Roan pulling her close and nuzzling her throat affectionately. “A sunset drink away from everyone. Because it _is_ really very romantic of you.”

 

“Maybe,” he said after a low laugh made his chest shake and his lips turn up against the skin of her throat. “It just nice to get away from everyone.”

 

“You won’t hear me arguing with you on that,” Clarke smiled, watching as the cloud cover thinned and she could almost make out the tiny pinpricks of the stars in the sky. They weren’t back to the brilliance of before Praimfaya, there was still too much dust in the atmosphere for that, but you could see them and that was amazing in and of itself.

 

“For once,” Roan teased as his hands shifted against her, burrowing in under her jacket to find the bare skin of her belly, rubbing small circles against it. Clarke pulled away from his chest to glare at him, but he was smiling at her, eyes glittering happily and it was hard to keep even a mock glare on her face when he looked so content.

 

“I’m not that bad,” she said and he kissed her cheek to placate her. “This is a beautiful spot.”

 

“I agree,” Roan said, leaning his head on her shoulder to look out. “I think we should build our house here.”

 

“Here?” Clarke repeated, looking out. Roan hummed as he held her close.

 

“It’s close to where the village will be but it’s a little more private,” he said, going back to his affectionate nuzzling of her throat, dropping a kiss behind her ear. “We can start small and add more rooms later.”

 

“How many children are you hoping we’ll have?” Clarke teased and he huffed.

 

“Half a dozen at least,” he said and she laughed turning around to face him. He was smiling smugly at her and though she didn’t doubt he was only half joking it didn’t make her want to slap any sense into him. She wasn’t sure six was a workable figure, but she figured they’d know when their family was complete.

 

“Under no circumstances will I agree to that,” she said as he shifted, letting her straddle his lap, his hands moving around to her back, his fingers rough against her skin making it tingle.

 

“You always start high in negotiations,” he said softly as her lips descended on his, accepting the kiss she placed on his lips. “I’m always up for practice.”

 

“That was terrible,” Clarke chided before pressing herself harder against him, opening her mouth against his kisses, savouring his familiar taste laced with the hot chocolate they had just enjoyed. She ground her hips down over his and tugged her gloves off behind his head so she could dig her hands into his hair as he kissed her deeply. His hands gripped her hips tight, encouraging her to move against him as he groaned softly.

 

“So remind me why we are out in the freezing cold when we have a nice warm room back in the bunker and we’re child free for the night so you can make me scream as loud as I want to?” Clarke whispered against his lips, only half joking, hoping it would encourage some quality time without Caelan. No matter how much she loved her son she still appreciated the activity that brought him into the world and would love the free reign having him in Abby’s care for the night would offer. Roan’s eyes opened, pupils dark and wide, and he smiled hungrily up at her.

 

“Is that a challenge or an invitation?” he asked, nipping her lower lip softly as he squeezed her ass.

 

“Definitely both,” Clarke said, leaning her head back to give him access to her throat, as he placed wet kisses along the length of it. She groaned freely enjoying the privacy the secluded spot offered them.

 

“It seems a shame to waste it,” Roan agreed, pulling away from her slowly, his hands pushing her hips lightly to get her to sit back and let him stand. Clarke looked for her gloves as he cleared away the bag and cups, throwing his cloak over her shoulders as he carried the bag in one hand and wrapped his other around hers. The walk back to the bunker seemed quicker than before and they didn’t encounter any of their friends on their way back to the room, much to her delight.

 

Roan opened the door to their room and Clarke peered in carefully, knowing they would find it empty, but not willing to count on it if Caelan had decided he didn’t want to leave. He was already showing evidence of a very stubborn personality and though she wanted to blame Roan for that particular genetic predisposition, she knew she was equally culpable in it. She grinned as she shut the door behind her, and Roan turned, dropping the bag onto the table a little carelessly before stalking back to her.

 

His fingers made quick work of the clasp around her throat and the buttons of her coat as he kissed her deeply, his tongue chasing her own. Clarke’s own hands busied themselves with his jacket and though they both fumbled, a trail of clothes was haphazardly strewn in their wake as they fell entangled onto the bed, finally free of any barrier between them. Clarke moaned happily at the feel of his naked skin against her own, running her hands down his wide shoulders and back, lightly scratching against the ridges of scars. He moaned softly in return, thrusting slowly between her thighs, his cock hard against her hip.

 

“We have all night,” Clarke whispered as she snaked a hand between their bodies, angling her hips as she lined him up with her entrance. “I need you now.”

 

He didn’t pause before thrusting into her, his hands cupping her face as he continued to kiss her deeply. She wrapped her legs around his waist and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of him around and inside of her, strong and hard against her own softer curves. He kept his pace slow and even, allowing her pleasure to build slowly, flicking his fingers over her nipples, now more sensitive than before. Everything was slow and languid rather than hot and loud as she had teased him about, but it was perfect.

 

Clarke gripped his hair in one hand, leaving the other to encourage him to thrust harder. He left her mouth in favour of her throat and Clarke rolled her head to the side to give him access as he sucked hard on her collarbone. He hooked one hand under her knee and changed the angle enough so his pelvic bone hit her clit with every surge of his hips. Clarke moaned loudly in appreciation and she felt him smile against her throat. She moaned again and he nipped at her shoulder in appreciation as he sped up his thrusts.

 

Clarke felt her focus narrow to the pleasure coursing through her body and let herself fall freely into the sensation. It didn’t take long before she was squeezing her walls around him as she came, his name on her lips as her nails dug into his scalp and back. He didn’t slow his pace, joining her moments later with a loud groan. Clarke ran her hands down his spine as he panted against her, holding himself a little above her before rolling to the side and tucking her up against himself.

 

“I’m not sure that qualifies as making you scream,” he rumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

 

“Well you can always try again since you enjoy your practice so much,” Clarke teased, shifting to look up at him. He glared down at her before cupping her cheek, bringing her close for a kiss. He ran his thumb over her lips as he pulled back, his eyes holding hers with a soft smile before he tried to unsuccessfully smother a yawn. Clarke laughed, but cut off as she joined him.

 

“Maybe after a short nap,” she conceded as he chuckled. “We can always set an alarm so we don’t waste prime kid-free time.”

 

“If nothing else we’ll be up early,” he said as he pulled their blankets up over them, shifting to spoon against her back. “We’re used to being up at five with strikon.”

 

“True,” Clarke agreed around another yawn, feeling the pull of exhaustion and the pang of disappointment that came with needing to sleep. She had wanted to enjoy the time with Roan, not spend it sleeping their whole night away.

 

“I love you,” she whispered as closed her eyes. “As soon as we build that house we’ll make sure we have our own room.”

 

“I love you, niron,” Roan rumbled against her throat. “And you just prioritized our house over everyone else.”

 

“You’re not serious,” Clarke grumbled, but found she couldn’t put any emphasis behind it. It would be amazing to have their own room once again.

 

“Deadly,” he whispered as he pulled her closer settling down to sleep. Clarke smiled into the darkness in the room as her own breathing settled, the room dark and quiet around them, safe and warm with the one person who made her feel whole.

 

There was a lot of building left to do, but they had a unified group of people who had started taking to calling themselves ‘Wonkru’ in anticipation of building their future together. As long as they remained united Clarke was confident they would succeed, no matter what challenges still lay ahead. One day they would be looking back at all they had accomplished against some of the most devastating odds anyone could have imagined and hopefully do so with pride and continued faith in the future.


	27. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my personal life became quite a bit more chaotic than I ever anticipated that it would so I can only apologize at the time it's taken for me to post the Epilogue. 
> 
> I will admit that I'm not entirely happy with it either so I may return to it at some point.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your incredible support and kind words over the course of this little alternative scenario I imagined :)
> 
> I do have a couple of other stories with this pairing in progress and hopefully I'll be posting at some point.

Clarke breathed deeply as she reached the top of the hill, eyes scanning the foliage for any useful herbs or plants to add to the small collection in the basket she carried. Gathering herbs seemed less important now with Monty and Jasper’s recent return from the north where they had found the remains of the CDC building, but some natural remedies would never be wrong. It would still take some time to find a way inside the building and the massive archives that were supposedly buried below. The knowledge that there was something else to explore that may offer them an ability to add to and continue to develop the technology they had accumulated was enough to cause a buzz of excitement in the population. Clarke and Abby were especially excited at the discovery, desperate to improve their ability to make more medicine since the supplies available in the bunkers were depleting quite rapidly with the increase in population and incidents that required treatment.

 

The blonde queen smiled up at the grey-blue sky, the warmth from the sun actually penetrating deeper through the cloud layer, making farming less work and increasing their food supply to everyone’s relief. She allowed her thoughts to turn to the possibility that they would be able to find some of the other bunkers the book had told them about. The old CDC building had been voted as highest priority and after a five-day journey Monty had called them to say that they had been successful in finding it and it appeared that there was some chance the basement levels were intact. A larger group of people would be sent out there next week with enough equipment to dig out a possible entrance into the facility. Next up would be the government archives in what remained of Washington, D.C. Clarke hoped they would have the same luck there as they did with the CDC. The more resources they found, the more rebuilding and infrastructure could be established and hopefully they would be on their way a more sustainable way of life for everyone in Wonkru.

 

Clarke pressed her fingers into her lower back to ease some of the ache at the base of her spine as she watched the progress of construction from the hilltop overlooking their new city. The council of elders had elected to name it Genesis and Clarke thought it was a little lofty and overly symbolic, but everyone else seemed to like it. She supposed that new life and a new world should be given an appropriate name. She sighed as she shifted on her feet before turning toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

 

“Lookin’ good, mama,” Octavia said as she approached, Caelan on her shoulders looking proud as punch to be carted around by one of his favourite people.

 

“Thanks,” Clarke scoffed with a small grin. “Totally not feeling it today. I swear this one is deliberately trying to kick me in the ribs at every given opportunity. I don’t remember being this sore with him.”

 

Octavia laughed, but there was a shadow of nervousness that passed through her eyes and Clarke knew she had all this to look forward to. Octavia had started showing at four months, but still looked lithe and lean and it certainly hadn’t done much to slow her down. Clarke was another matter at eight months pregnant. The second pregnancy had happened much sooner than she had anticipated but the irritation had faded immediately at the proud and happy smile painted over Roan’s features when she told him. Caelan was almost three and they had been above ground for a couple of years and plenty of children had been conceived and born already.

 

“Mama!” the young prince cried out and pointed to the sky where a bird was seen streaking across the pale blue-grey expanse. “Sora!”

 

“I see it,” Clarke smiled up at the animal, still amazed at the tenacity of life on the planet.

 

So far they had found several species of small birds had somehow managed to survive, along with bats, lizards, snakes and several small mammals. They had yet to see proper evidence of any large game animals, but there were some trackers from the different krus that swore they had seen tracks of both carnivores and herbivores in the recovering forests surrounding the new capitol. Clarke was not quite so optimistic and tried her best along with everyone else to appreciate the ability for insects to make up the majority of their protein content. If you didn’t think about eating worms it was at least somewhat palatable.

 

“Ilian almost caught one the other day,” Octavia said, a small smirk on her full lips. “He’s hoping to be the first.”

 

“I’m sure that would earn him some heavy weight with farm station,” Clarke agreed with a laugh. “They’re desperate to get some breeding pairs to try and establish a population.”  


“They’re just sick of eating bugs,” Octavia pressed, swinging the young boy off her shoulders and making him squeal happily.

 

“We’re _all_ sick of eating bugs,” Clarke said with a shake of her head. “Between the bugs and the beans I’m with farm station on this one. Ilian would be a hero to us all. Raven confirmed yesterday that the fish we can catch are still inedible until they purge more of the radiation and heavy metals.”

 

“Yeah, he’s aware. I think that’s half his motivation,” Octavia agreed, hand rubbing her belly fondly, looking around and moving over to a log that lay among some larger rocks to sit down, watching Caelan as he explored the area. Clarke joined her, sighing happily as she shifted into a more comfortable position and stretching her feet out in front of her.

 

“So what’s the pool up to on baby number two?” the blonde asked making her friend laugh in surprise. “You’re the only one who I think will actually tell me. Raven refused outright saying she had too much invested and Monty and Jas seem to think making me work to find out the information is a game in itself.”

 

“I think the safe money is on it being a girl this time,” the brunette admitted. “Apparently if your first is a boy the next is sure to be a girl. But I think most people just want to have a little princess to add to the perfect royal family.”

 

“They do know that’s not how it works, right?” Clarke said with a shake of her head. “It’s still a fifty-fifty chance this is another boy.”

 

“Let the people dream, azplana,” Octavia grinned, eyes twinkling merrily. “They just want to see the king doubly as protective over your next little one. I’ve heard enough stories about the first few weeks with the little prince to want to see protective papa-bear Roan.”

 

“He’s a tad overprotective but I doubt the sex of the child will impact that at all. He’s an equal opportunity overprotective father,” Clarke admitted, but the fond smile that played over her lips belied any inclination to blame him.

 

Clarke had her moments with Caean in the first few weeks as well, but with an active toddler already spending most of his day at full speed, she knew she’d be happy to find a pair of helping hands where she could when the little one made their arrival. Octavia snorted but didn’t say anything further, looking out over the construction of Genesis just as Clarke had been earlier.

 

There were already several large buildings strategically placed around a centre point where they imagined a large square would be situated in the years to come. They wanted to have a marketplace established and somewhere they could erect a permanent monument to the people who died in, and those who survived, the second praimfaya. There were a couple of Delfikru sculptors who had started designing it already and many were anxious to see the results of their efforts, but Roan held firm that it was up to the two men to decide when they were ready to reveal what they had made to the masses. It was too important to rush and the council had agreed wholeheartedly.

 

There was a large building that would progressively become a hospital as time went on and they managed to develop and reproduce the necessary technology. The bunkers were still used as the main medical facilities for major operations and any outbreaks, but that would change in the future. There was a large canteen and social meeting space that Clarke had never seen empty, regardless the time of day or night. A schoolhouse had been set up to continue educating the children and they were adding outbuildings to it every day, most recently a daycare and nursery for all the recently born children to Wonkru.

 

Families continued to be entitled to new houses and they spread out beyond the main area of the small city along with an area set aside for industry and manufacturing. The smelt and iron forge was constantly going and the bakery and mill were also in constant use now that they had finally managed to establish some wheat and corn. The dust layer covering the sky had finally lessened enough to give them a couple of seasons and helped immensely with establishing a proper growing season for crops.

 

Clarke and Roan’s house had been built quicker than she’d anticipated, but she was thankful for the distance it provided them. After being locked underground for so long with so many people, living only a few minutes removed from town was a freedom Clarke hadn’t even realized she had needed. They had lived in the house for a year and Clarke couldn’t imagine moving back underground. It allowed them a few precious moments of privacy away from the crowds of people who still sought out their king and queen on a regular basis to consult on all manner of things.

 

Roan was always busy but he seemed to thrive in his role, something that still didn’t come naturally to Clarke. She was happier working with her mother to establish a proper medical facility and do what she could to help as many of their people as possible in that way. She liked getting her hands dirty; stitching wounds and keeping watch over feverish children was a far more natural role for her than listening to discussions about community building and resource management. Roan had the right mindset for leadership and Clarke was happy to leave it to him and the rest of the council. She would only add her own opinion when asked to provide it or when her husband needed to talk through a particularly difficult issue in the privacy of their home.

 

“So things start in about an hour, right?” Octavia asked glancing down at the square where tables had been set up and a large bonfire organized for the celebration of their survival of praimfaya.

 

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded, looking forward to the celebrations but already feeling the pull of exhaustion that came with late pregnancy. She knew she would be retiring early but wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see all of their friends and family celebrate and let loose after so much hard work establishing their new life.

 

Raven had promised the children a special treat as soon as it was dark enough tonight and Clarke had her suspicions after walking in on her best friend reading an old earth recipe for making fireworks. She had eyed the brunette dubiously as she grinned a little too widely at her narrowed-eyed look before the blonde had chosen to just walk away. Clarke had been even less reassured when she spotted Jasper grinning widely with Raven the following afternoon, heads bent over a book between them at the canteen table. Whatever was about to happen tonight she was certainly going to be around for, but maybe take it all in from a very safe distance.

 

“No speech this year?” the brunette asked as Caelan ran back to them and threw his arms around the younger girl, still absolutely enthralled by both Octavia and Raven much to the two women’s delight.

 

“Nope, got out of it,” Clarke admitted happily. “Probably the only time I pulled the pregnancy card, but Roan and Bellamy were happy enough to let me get away with it.”

 

“Bell’s not any more interested in the whole thing so he wouldn’t ask you to do it,” Octavia mused, standing and brushing off her pants, lifting Caelan onto one hip. “Ready to waddle back down then?”

 

“Did he send you out to find me?” Clarke asked, finally catching on to why Octavia had just happened to come up to the lookout and confirming her suspicions when the brunette raised her eyebrow in reply.

 

Clarke knew Roan was starting to get nervous about her being out on her own as they closed in on the end of her pregnancy. She didn’t think much of it and with her mother’s frequent check ups was pretty confident that she wasn’t about to pop right this second. A little extra exercise was good for her as long as she took it easy. Roan was less easy to convince however and often sent people out to ‘accidentally’ run into her while she was collecting herbs or working long hours in the clinic.

 

“Of course he did,” Clarke muttered. “I told him I’d be gone an hour. And you want to see how overprotective he gets with the kids?”

 

Octavia laughed as she offered Clarke a hand up off the ground, leaving the blonde to pick up the basket of herbs and plants she had found. The land wasn’t barren any longer, but the plant population was taking it’s own time to recover after the surge of fire and radiation. The two women walked slowly back down to the centre of the town with Caelan happily chatting about whatever struck his interest. Her son was a bundle of contradictions that constantly amused Clarke.

 

When he was out with Clarke or her friends he often chatted freely and frequently but when he was with his father he slowed down and gave himself over to the same long periods of silence that the king was inclined to indulge in. He was adventurous and spirited and stubborn to a fault but he was sweet and kind and loved everyone equally. Clarke didn’t know what would become of her son, but he certainly had personality and drive and that was something in itself. She rubbed a hand over her distended belly, curious about what would change with the new child’s arrival.

 

“I see you found something,” a familiar deep voice came from behind her as she entered the square and Clarke glanced over her shoulder with a smile at her husband. He was dressed in full Azgedan regalia, his sword strapped around his middle and the bone crown sat in place in his dark hair that Clarke had braided formally for him that morning. He looked intimidating and regal but there was a warmth in his eyes that never failed to make her smile softly at him, a look he reserved for her alone.

 

“I found a few things I haven’t seen growing here before,” she replied, glancing down at the basket in her hands. “The plants are finally starting to recover.”

 

“Noni!” Caelan squealed happily when Roan nodded a greeting to Octavia and a small smile broke over his face at his son’s excitement.

 

He reached out and plucked the child from the brunette’s arms allowing him to run his fingers over the sharp points of the bone crown. He indulged Caelan’s explorations patiently, speaking with his son quietly in Azgedasleng and Clarke saw the change come over her son in his father’s calm company. He watched his father closely and replied seriously to any questions he was asked even as his small fingers brushed along Roan’s face and through the soft beard that seemed to fascinate the toddler.

 

“Can I see Raven’s surprise, Noni?” Caelan asked, looking between his parents hopefully. Roan frowned at the boy before glancing over at Clarke in question. Apparently the mechanic hadn’t shared her ideas with the king which shouldn’t actually come as a surprise.

 

“I don’t know what she has planned,” Clarke replied to the unasked question, glancing over at Octavia who also shrugged. “But I’m sure that if it works, it will be worth a grumpy toddler tomorrow.”

 

“As long as you stay with nomon,” Roan said making Caelan grin and the toddler wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face in the crook of the king’s shoulder happily. Clarke stepped closer to her husband, squeezing his bicep fondly and smiling warmly up at him.

 

“I assume whatever Raven has planned is unlikely to cause problems,” Roan stated, glancing around the square probably in an attempt to locate his Second and get information from the person most likely to know the details.

 

“I would say she has likely got an emergency plan in case anything goes wrong,” Clarke said and Roan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But with Raven I doubt it will go wrong.”

 

“Wasn’t Jasper helping her?” Octavia asked, and Clarke wanted to kick her friend for pointing that out as Roan frowned in concern, already well versed in how Jasper’s involvement often hindered more than helped.

 

“I’m sure that Raven’s got it under control,” Clarke said with more confidence than she had, hoping her smile was genuine enough.

 

“I think I will speak to Tyko,” Roan said, passing Caelan over to Clarke, scanning the crowd. “I will return to collect you as soon as I can.”

 

“You shouldn’t have mentioned Jasper,” Clarke sighed, letting Caelan back down onto the ground. The toddler was off and running once again, thrilled at his victory to stay and watch the excitement. “He hasn’t trusted anything Jas has been involved with since the first batch of moonshine he insisted Roan try that made him hallucinate.”

 

“I heard stories about that,” Octavia grinned at Clarke. The blonde remembered the night Tyko came back with Roan who was looking worse for wear. After the entire situation had been explained to her she was torn between beating him for trusting anything Jasper had given him and worry over the distant look on his features. It had been a long night but ever since Roan had remained reluctant to trust the younger man, and any unidentified drink passed to him.

 

Octavia soon said her goodbyes to Clarke and Caelan, promising to catch them before the end of the celebration. The queen wandered through the small crowd of people that had started gathering in the square as she waited for Roan to return from his discussion with Tyko. It didn’t take the king long to return to his wife and son and soon after the celebrations were in full swing with plenty of food and drink as the darkness started to fall over Genesis and it’s survivors.

 

*~*~*

 

Clarke stirred when the bed dipped behind her, a familiar hand sliding over her bare skin under the thick furs. She had collapsed into bed as soon as she had gotten Caelan to sleep after Raven’s successful and extremely popular fireworks display. Clarke had been pleasantly surprised that it had gone to plan and hoped she would be able to tease some details out of Raven about how she managed to pull it off. The sky had been alive in shades of red, blue, green and yellow to the delight of the crowd of onlookers. It had been an amazing sight and Clarke vowed to remember the feeling of Roan’s arms tightening around her swollen waist as Caelan pointed to the sky, laughing in delight, for the rest of her days.

 

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” she murmured as Roan kissed her softly behind her ear and his hand settled on her protruding belly. The baby that had been quiet up until now seemed to recognize his touch and kicked firmly against it, making the king’s lips turn up against the skin of Clarke’s throat.

 

“You left hours ago, niron,” Roan rumbled, rubbing soothing circles over her belly as the baby continued to kick. “I left Tyko to assign watch for the last of the celebration.”

 

Clarke hummed in acknowledgement, still exhausted and soothed by his warm body pressed against her back and the familiar smell of rain and pine that clung to him now that they were once again back above ground. She wanted to turn to face him but knew that position was more frustrating now as it put more space between them rather than allowing her to cuddle closer. She turned her face sideways instead, seeking his lips for a kiss and he hummed happily as he pressed his against hers, nipping her softly until she opened for him and allowed him to deepen it. She dug her fingers into his hair as they kissed leisurely, exploring each other quietly and intimately in the stillness of their bedroom.

 

“I can’t wait until I’m not the size of a house again,” Clarke grumbled when he pulled back, shifting restlessly against him, feeling the press of his arousal against her lower back. He chuckled warmly as he kissed her shoulder, hand settling again on her belly.

 

“You’re not the size of a house,” Roan argued, hands moving up to cup her breasts gently.

 

“Maybe not,” she scoffed. “But I’m not exactly attractive at the moment.”

 

“Needing assurances again?” her husband asked, amusement colouring his question as his lips continued exploring her shoulder and throat. “You know I find you irresistible.”

 

“That I don’t doubt,” Clarke said, sighing as he ran one hand down under the swell of her belly to press against her clit and she couldn’t help the restless movement of her hips. “I think it’s just a primal thing, seeing as I’m currently incubating your child.”

 

“Perhaps,” the king agreed, but his tone was less than convinced. “But it is not the reason.”

 

He shifted to lean over her shoulder, capturing her lips in a deep, possessive kiss as his fingers rubbed her gently, making her belly start to tingle in anticipation. It didn’t take long before Clarke forgot about her insecurities, the press of Roan’s body driving away the last shreds of doubt. He hiked one leg over his hip, his erection sliding between the wet folds of her sex, making Clarke shudder and grip the back of his head.

 

“Please,” she whispered against his lips and he pushed into her gently, his movements gentle, building her orgasm slowly as he moved inside her. He knew her body so well now that it didn’t take her long to tighten around him, keening quietly against the pillows as she pulled on his hair. He joined her shortly after, biting down on her shoulder and breathing out sharply against her skin.

 

“Ai hod yu in,” he whispered against her throat, voice raw and soft and Clarke wondered what made him share the sentiment so freely. She turned her face to his, kissing him softly and sucking lightly on his bottom lip.

 

“I love you,” she returned and he made a contented noise somewhere between a rumble and a hum, tightening his arms around her carefully. Sleep was starting to pull at her once again, but she wanted to take more time with him, their opportunities fewer and farther between these days.

 

“Everything went as you wanted it to?” she asked and he hummed, hand moving over her belly in long sweeps. She frowned, thinking about what else would have caused the surge in affection from him.

 

“Raven and Tyko asked permission to have a binding ceremony,” he said and Clarke’s eyes shot open, mouth widening in a happy grin.

 

“Really?” she asked, shifting to look over her shoulder at Roan to find him smiling softly at her. He nodded before dropping a kiss to the tip of her nose, eyes open and warm.

 

“I didn’t think she’d ever agree,” Clarke admitted, knowing how conflicted Raven had remained over the whole idea of binding ceremonies and marriage. Clarke had almost given up bringing the topic up with her friend, not wanting to push her, but she knew her well enough to know that Raven wanted it deep down.

 

“I haven’t seen Tyko that happy before,” Roan said, a warm note of happiness for his friend making his voice deep and soft. “I promised that we would arrange it for whenever they were ready.”

 

“Next week?” Clarke teased happily and Roan huffed a little laugh.

 

“If Tyko had his way,” he agreed, nuzzling his face into her throat, kissing the soft skin he found there.

 

“Well it would be easier if they do it right away or in a few months,” Clarke said, placing her own hand over Roan’s on her belly. “If they pick a time a month from now I can’t guarantee I’ll be there.”

 

“So they need to work around you?” her husband teased as he pulled her against his chest, holding her close and breathing out as he settled in to sleep.

 

“Obviously,” Clarke replied with a laugh. “I don’t want to miss seeing Raven finally get married after so many years.”

 

Roan hummed behind her and Clarke smiled into the dark. Her friends had started settling down, finding their own partners and starting families. She had been busy at the clinic with her mother recently with a slew of new pregnancies that they needed to care for but it lifted the spirits of Wonkru. After five years confined underground and barred from even thinking about children many were celebrating and indulging in the ability to add to their families. Clarke was looking forward to the future, to watching her children grow up and explore the world. To see her friends’ children do the same and hopefully see their people thrive again above ground after so many years of backbreaking work and sacrifice.

 

*~*~*

 

Four years after they had returned above ground Raven’s systems came alive, alerting them in shrill warning of an incoming threat. There was something foreign moving in the atmosphere above them and every warrior available in Genesis was on alert as a large ship descended from the sky. This time when Roan asked her to stay away from what could be a threat she complied and stayed in their home, armed to the teeth with Octavia and Raven by her side and their children gathered with them.

 

“I am old enough to help Noni,” Caelan argued making his mother sigh heavily. “He said he needed every available man to be ready.”

 

“I know you are,” Clarke said, crouching down before the seven year old. “But he asked you to help guard your brother and sister. They need your help too. And so do the other young ones.”

 

“But that is what you are here for,” the boy argued, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning darkly in near-perfect mimicry of his father.

 

His hair was as dark as Roan’s and brushed his shoulders, but his eyes were a deeper hue of blue, closer to Clarke’s own. She couldn’t quite get past the soft roundness of his cheeks that he had yet to lose, but the hard glint of determination in his eyes made her frown. He was too perceptive for his own good and already seemed to take after his father’s propensity to carry the burdens of others.

 

“Noni is going to speak with their leader,” Clarke reassured her son. “He does not want to fight them. If there can be peace between us, that’s what your father will look for. And he has brought enough warriors to look intimidating.”

 

“They didn’t look like they want peace,” the boy argued and Clarke glanced over at her friends who were exchanging worried looks, their own children playing with Clarke’s.

 

“We have to try,” Clarke said, eyes back on Caelan. “If anyone can broker peace, it’s your father. He was the one who unified the clans into Wonkru.”

 

“He always says that you were the reason our people unified,” Caelan argued making the blonde’s heart pick up its pace, new worry for her husband gripping her heart in an icy fist.

 

“We did it together,” Clarke said firmly. “But it was his idea. And he’s not alone. Tyko, Bellamy and Marcus are with him. We’ll wait here just like he asked us to. That is how we will help him and Wonkru.”

 

“But-“ Caelan started but Clarke’s hard stare cut him off, making him huff impatiently. “Yes, mama.”

 

“Good,” she smiled softly. “Now go help Grace play with your little brother. And make sure you include the twins and Valentina.”

 

“Yes, mama,” he nodded, but the set of his jaw was an echo of his father’s stubbornness. But he turned and went to play with the younger children and Clarke stood and returned to the window that her friends were peering out of.

 

“All good?” Raven asked, glancing back at the kids.

 

Her daughter sat with Octavia’s twin boys, all three just about eighteen months old and already thick as thieves. Griffin was close behind them at twelve months and Clarke was already dreading the small pack of mischief-makers that would roam the streets in a few years. She could already see the trouble the four would cause if Valentina took after her mother’s inclination towards invention, Octavia’s twin boys all too happy to follow any instruction she gave them even now.

 

“He’s just like Roan,” Clarke grumbled, but a warm rush of pride flared in her chest. “He doesn’t like anyone else having to stand for him. Even his own father apparently.”

 

Raven just hummed in reply, too nervous to add anything to the conversation as the women all turned their eyes back to the windows. There was movement on the horizon and Clarke straightened her spine. She had no idea what to expect from the mining colony but she knew from experience it wouldn’t be easy. Even if they resolved to be peaceful after today and give them some land and supplies in hope that they would all integrate, there was bound to be friction and rebellion on at least one side. Wonkru had fought hard and worked even harder to establish their new home and they wouldn’t all be willing to open themselves up to strange new people, the memory of Skaikru’s first year on earth still in many people’s recent memories.

 

“They’re coming back,” Octavia said, moving to the door even though they had been strictly instructed to stay inside until it was established everything was safe. But both Clarke and Raven were hot on her heels out the door as the small warrior party came up the hill to the royal estate. Clarke recognized Roan’s gait, a little stiffer than normal, but she hurried closer, scanning over the grim faces of the men.

 

“I told you to stay inside,” the king said, voice low and concerned, eyes flickering up to the house where Clarke assumed the children had spilled out of probably picking up on the nervous atmosphere.

 

“What happened?” Clarke asked, ignoring his chastisement and moving closer to him, needing to touch him as she saw the deep lines of worry etched into his face. “Are they going to be a problem?”

 

“We should go inside,” Tyko said shortly and Raven frowned deeply in reply but the small party turned and proceeded back up to the royal quarters, the children chattering excitedly now that their parents were all reunited. Once they had been resettled inside the adults sat around the large table to discuss what had happened.

 

“They appear grateful for anything we are willing to provide them,” Roan began, leaning back in his chair, but his spine remained stiff and tall, a sure sign that he was uncertain about what to make of the new people. “But they have weapons and they are different from Skaikru.”

 

“Different how?” Raven asked, glancing at Bellamy and Marcus.

 

“They are a product of who they were raised by,” Kane supplied with a shrug. “They were prisoners. They seem to have a more brutal way of life, used to fighting for what they need. They don’t seem to understand why we are willing to give them land. And they don’t trust us.”

 

“We don’t trust them,” Clarke pointed out. “Can they go back?”

 

“No,” Kane answered again shaking his head. “The main ship had a catastrophic systems failure, the people that are here now are the only ones who managed to get onto the shuttle and survive. About five hundred if their commander is to be believed. And I doubt you would have returned to space if you had been able to.”

 

“We have them beat on numbers alone,” Bellamy added, but the statement didn’t seem to inspire enough confidence. “And we can give them land farther away from us, but they have guns and technology available to them so there is a possibility they could attack us.”

 

“To what advantage?” Kane asked. “I’m not suggesting we trust them, but we have to give them the benefit of a doubt. They need our help to learn how to live down here. And like you said earlier, we still outnumber them greatly.”

 

Bellamy sighed and crossed his arms and Clarke turned her attention back to Roan who was watching the exchange with grave eyes. She hadn’t seen that particular look in them for many years and it made something twist painfully in her chest. She reached over to take his hand and his eyes flickered over to hers immediately.

 

“Do you think they’ll do anything?” she asked softly, knowing they were among close and trusted friends and not worried about what it would look like.

 

“Maybe,” the king replied with a weary look. “But I doubt they will do anything until they get established. We have to remain on guard, but if we can work with them there are greater advantages than there are risks.”

 

“How are we supposed to keep our people safe?” she asked, thinking of her children and her family and friends. The idea that they may return to the bloodshed and distrust of the year before praimfaya brought a surge of bile into her throat. She had hoped that they were past all of the violence and could work toward moving forward and rebuilding.

 

“We keep our eyes open,” Roan said and looked at the others around the table who had fallen silent to listen to their exchange. “We treat them as respected allies but tempered with the wariness of strangers. Until we know what their true aim is we keep them close and watch them. They won’t live within our borders but we will help them as best as we can. Hopefully their offer of cooperation is genuine.”

 

“We have no way of keeping them out of the city,” Bellamy pointed out. “They could come at any time.”

 

“Which is why we remain vigilant,” Roan said firmly as he settled back against his chair. “And hope that our suspicions are for nothing.”

 

A year later brought an armed rebellion from some of the prison colony. The attack was swift but the rebuttal was swifter. The rebel force among the newly arrived space kru was outnumbered by the ones who truly wanted to reestablish themselves on earth and in the end Wonkru and the loyalists prevailed. Clarke would often think back to the hard lines that returned to Roan’s features as he once again had to take up arms against opposition to fight for their right to life on earth and hoped again that she would never see them return.

 

*~*~*

 

A few years later Clarke realizes they finally made it. Built the world they had fought so hard for and the one the Ark was launched in hopes of achieving. She is watching Caelan as he chases after his youngest sister who runs ahead of him, constantly falling over in the soft grass from giggling so wildly. The destination she is heading for is Roan, crouched low on the grass, arms wide open, skin gleaming in the warm sunlight and the smile on his face is more radiant that the sun-bathed world around them.

 

She tries hard to remember the weary, battle-worn man who rarely smiled and whose laugh was reserved for only the most intimate of company, but she finds it hard to reconcile him with who he is now. A king beloved by their people, a strong and proud father, and a fair and wise man who loves her. When he looks at her, the world falls away, leaving only his bright blue eyes and open adoration as she smiles back at him, the scent of pine on the light breeze and the air full of their children’s laughter.

 


	28. Bonus Additional Epilogue

Many, many years in the future, somewhere on the planet Earth…

 

Gryffin rolled her eyes as the museum curator delved into a long story about the Wonkru clan and the survivors of the three bunkers. The strict looking woman pushed her glasses up her sharp nose as she explained how it all began with a young girl from the Space station the Ark agreed to marry a fearsome warrior king who had survived the years on the ground. She went on to paint Azgeda as a group of savage people who had adapted to a cruel and violent way of life and the inevitable bloody conflict that happened when the people on the Ark came down to the ground, escaping certain death in space. Clarke was painted as both a saviour and a self-sacrificing noble young woman who was willing to risk her own life and happiness to help unite the people. Roan was described as wise and intimidating, a hard and weathered warrior whom many feared.

 

Gryffin knew the story they told well and wandered away discreetly to go to the display showing a picture of Roan and Clarke and their children gathered outside the first buildings of Genesis. She smiled up, her sharp, light-blue eyes twinkling, as they looked into the face of the man who bore ones strikingly similar to hers. Her mother often regaled her with stories about them. Real stories taken from Clarke’s journals passed down for generations and kept within the family. Gryffin was their great-great-great-granddaughter and she had been raised on the story for as long as she could remember and dreamed of adding her name to the long list of family accomplishments.

 

Roan and Clarke had gone on to have five children, all of who became leaders in their own right, exploring the struggling planet and helping to rebuild the world. And the spirit of adventure, compassion and exploration seemed an innate part of their genetic makeup, with an extra drive to achieve the impossible. It had only taken a generation before Wonkru had set out in different directions all over the planet and done their best to explore every last hidden corner of the world to find and help the few remaining people hidden away underground.

 

Gryffin brushed back her blonde curls as she admired Clarke who stood smiling proudly at the camera, Roan’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and their children lined up around them. She touched her own temple gently, proud to keep the somewhat out-of-fashion tradition, but she liked the three small stars on her right temple. They reminded her of where she dreamed of going.

 

“There you are, Fi,” a deep voice said behind her and she turned to face her best friend, John. “Should have known I’d find you here.”

 

“Well, the way they tell their story is just ridiculous,” Gryffin complained and John laughed, already well versed in his best friend’s aversion to her family history. “They make it sound like Clarke was bartered off as part of a contracted exchange, a poor pawn traded away to a brutal warrior in exchange for a chance to survive. They gloss over the fact that they both worked equally as hard to unify the clans. Clarke was the one who saved him in the end, not this romanticized version where she becomes some sort of damsel in distress. She would have hated it. Almost as much as she would have hated how they describe Roan. And don’t get me started on what he would have thought. He loved her more than anything else.”

 

“I know,” John agreed warmly, looking up at the picture Gryffin was still staring at. “I think everyone knows that though. Just look at them.”

 

Gryffin smiled up at the picture, knowing there was some truth to what he said. You could tell how happy the family was, and she had the journal files from the time in the bunker. She had read everything she could get her hands on and probably knew Raven’s personal journals by heart at this point. But it was important to read the story in their words. Wonkru and the original members of the alliance had done something amazing. They had achieved the impossible and saved the human race.

 

“You still going tomorrow?” John asked after a moment. He sounded nervous and Gryffin wrapped a hand around his bicep, fingers tensing as she thought about the shiny new spacesuit with her name embossed over her heart.

 

“Obviously,” she laughed happily as she moved them further into the museum, leaving her ancestors display behind her. “As if I’d ever give up my dream of going up to the stars.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, good folks, is all she wrote! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me all this time <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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